Secrets of Blood
by midnight341
Summary: A young woman is forced into the world of vampires due to unique circumstances concerning her blood. How will she handle her new life in the servitude to a man she loves to hate? And how will LA's Prince handle a woman who is more suited to be in the company of anarchs than that of the influential Ventrue? OCxLacroix, before Bloodlines.
1. Nobody Walks In LA

**Author's Note:** Hello future reader/reviewer! Thank you for taking interest in my OCxLacroix story. The idea for this came after my last play through of Vampire the Masquerade Bloodlines. I love everything about the game, but the characters are what really make it shine. Prince Lacroix's character especially is one that intrigues me because I love and hate him equally. The thought of him being romantically involved with someone, while highly unlikely, would have to be a complicated one to say the least so I thought I might try to tackle the concept. I'm going to attempt to put as many familiar faces in as possible without butchering their characters too horribly. Finally, I have little experience when it comes to the roleplaying game. While I might employ material from the World of Darkness later on, I apologize if any information is misrepresented (please correct me!).

With that, I really hope you enjoy the story and I would love to see reviews (good or bad). I'm always looking to improve my work and appreciate constructive criticism. However, any pointlessly rude comments will be deleted. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing in this story except my own character Valeska Latimer, and any other original characters I may add in later.

**Warning:** This story is rated M for extreme moments of violence, adult situations/humor, and perhaps later on intense sexual situations. This specific chapter however is only rated T for violence and language. You have been warned!

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**Chapter 1 Nobody Walks In LA**

On any night in downtown LA, only the desperate or unstable would be on the streets. As soon as that sun set, nearly everyone knew that a different kind of being crawled out from the lowest point of life one could sink. Criminals roamed the streets committing all manner of devious activities, while prostitutes occupied nearly every corner doing anything that would guarantee their next fix. The homeless, desolate as ever, at least had one another to gather around fire pits in order to stay warm, but even small comforts turn sour in the wake of needing alcohol. The police were desperately outnumbered when confronted with gangs, murderers, and foolish kids attracted to the thrill of dangers. Due to this, the city had been slowly falling apart which encouraged more crime and seekers of chaos. The streets during the day were harsh enough, but the streets at night were incredibly dangerous.

Valeska Latimer knew of the danger involved with her evening strolls, and she was neither desperate nor unstable (well maybe a tad bit unstable). Ever since she was a child, late nights had always held special appeal to her. She could never figure out the exact reason why either. The night just felt more alive compared to the day, and especially so in a city like LA.

Compared to any young college student at first glance, Valeska appeared to be just like them. She stayed up late, ate poorly due to a tight budget, played video games, watched TV, hung out with classmates here and there, etc. She wasn't into parties though and was mainly an introverted person who desired alone time with her books or computer. As a child she was a nerd, and as an adult she was the same. She preferred it this way as knowledge was something she would choose any day over being athletic or popular. It showed too, as she was consistently the top of her class. Most would think that due to being a bookworm, she would naturally lack in social skills. While she was somewhat awkward around her peers she adapted more or less with their personalities and fit in without a problem. No one would expect anything differently about the warm and friendly Miss Latimer.

Under the surface though, Valeska was an entirely different person who relied on shady methods in order to survive. She was a hacker, a thief, and someone who was not above murdering another for a paycheck. There were a few things she had done in her past that she wasn't proud of, but for the most part she had no guilt about anything. When the time came she was cold, analytical, manipulative, and precise. However she did have her own personal code. She would never steal from a hospital, never get involved with anything related to drugs, and never kill someone without it either being in self-defense OR unless the person really had it coming. Everyone had to die eventually. Some people just died sooner than they were supposed to by unorthodox methods. In the end though, if she could avoid death she did.

Jobs could get rough though, and she had scars to prove it. On more than one occasion she had almost died and only just barely escaped from the immediate danger. She had some combat training thanks to her father, but the physical side of life was something that she had always struggled with. Complex theories she mastered easily, but helpful hand to hand stances eluded her. Another reason she no doubt believed in brain over brawn. When it came down to it, if she wasn't able to eliminate her target through stealth, she was in for the fight of her life.

Valeska continued to walk down the streets of downtown LA until she came across her favorite corner store. She stopped to look in her wallet which held her school ID, a maxed out credit card, a debit card with no funds, and a few dollars. She sighed irritably and passed the store, her sneakers squeaking slightly due to the wet concrete. Although some of her jobs paid handsomely, nearly all her money she sent to her only living blood relative: her grandma.

For the last few years, her grandma had been battling a serious case of lung cancer. Before that it was breast cancer, and before that it was a tumor. Now in her late seventies, she needed all the help she could get. At first she denied the money outright, but when Valeska assured her she was beyond well off with her new "job", she reconsidered. She had no idea that her granddaughter was nothing more than a petty unemployed criminal.

Just as Valeska was remembering a fond childhood memory involving her father, she found herself in front of her favorite spot in the city, the Venture Tower. It was probably one of the largest buildings Downtown and she couldn't help but stare up in amazement. The towering skyscraper was a sight to behold, and even if someone were to squint their eyes they would find it difficult to see the top floor. Tonight was no different and the clouds covered most of it. She could just make out a bit of light peeping out from behind the mists. No doubt it was some workaholic employee working hard to get a promotion. She shrugged and averted her eyes. There was no way she would ever be important enough to enter a structure like that, let alone ever share the hallways of the rich and powerful.

The young woman yawned and turned to take the return path to her apartment. She had a test tomorrow and it was foolish that she even bothered to come here. It may have been her favorite spot, but it frequently brought on her depression with thoughts of worthlessness. She shook her head, ran a hand through her shoulder length chocolate hair, and smirked while mentally trying to convince herself that there was hope. Her life had not been a happy one and she had faced more trials than most people would ever encounter. Maybe if she kept fighting onward she could amount to something in the end. That or end up in jail, one or the other.

As she continued on her return journey she noticed with unease that a group of about six men in dirty clothing were watching her with hungry dark eyes. At first she assumed they were homeless until one of them, probably the leader, stepped forward from the shadows in a threatening manner. It was then with horror that she saw on his arm a tattoo of an inverted spiked ankh. In other words, the symbol that traced back to one of the most notorious gangs in downtown LA because of the level of violence they inflicted upon the city.

In the papers there were constant reports of gruesome remains being found in garbage dumpsters and back alleys. The perpetrators though, either always ended up dead quickly after being detained before their trial, or had just the right lawyers to get them off scotch free. Even if she herself was in secret, a criminal, there was no way that what they did was morally right in any form. They were sick twisted beings whose crimes reflected those of a monster. If this strongly felt opinion made her a hypocrite, so be it.

Valeska avoided staring at them for too long as she didn't want to provoke them. Something wasn't right though, she could just feel it. She did a quick head count and realized that the menacing leader of the group was missing. Where had he gone? What happened next occurred so quickly that she barely had time to register it. One moment she was searching anxiously for the missing gang member and the next she was being grabbed and restrained from behind.

"You make one wrong move or attempt to get outside help and I'll slit your fucking throat. Got it?" her attacker hissed in her ear while holding something sharp, probably a knife, to her neck. She tried to nod but he was holding her so tightly that instead she mumbled a yes through his hand. Without another word he forced her down the alley toward their unknown destination.

Never in her entire life had she been so afraid. In her violent past she had been through hell and back, but something about this man terrified her down to her very bones. Whoever he was, she could sense a great evil coming from him. Part of her wished she could get a chance to see his face better, but the other part was too frightened. Realizing she was allowing her fear to control her, she tried to remain calm and think of a way out of her current situation.

The first thought was to physically overpower him, but that idea was pointless. He was far too strong first off, and he held her so tightly that she could barely move any part from her waist up. Secondly, because of the first reason, there were few techniques she could even attempt on him. She knew far too few combat moves in the first place, and only about one-fourth of those she had mastered. Even if by some random chance she did manage to escape, she doubted she could outrun him due to how fast he was currently running. Maybe if she was lucky she could talk her way out of this or somehow trick her attacker.

All of these options seemed very unlikely however and the fear quickly returned. She shut her eyes in an attempt to hold back her tears, but it was no use. Warm streams began to flow freely, and from behind she heard her assailant laugh quietly. The sick bastard was actually enjoying this as he continued to drag her roughly down the alley.

It wasn't long until they reached their endpoint, which surprisingly was the Venture Tower. Looking around she saw five other people also restrained by the gang members she had seen earlier. Some of them had guns, but others were holding what she believed to be switchblades to the throats of their victims. Upon closer inspection she was shocked to see that they were not knives at all, but very long sharp claws. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? Panicking she struggled furiously in a feeble attempt to flee only to feel what she now assumed to be claws, dig into her neck.

"What the hell did I say before bitch?!" Valeska stopped fighting the inevitable. Until she saw an opportunity she was stuck in this situation. She went back to staring at the other offenders only to now see their eyes were glowing red. Valeska grasped desperately in her mind to find a logical meaning behind what she was seeing. The fear was causing her to hallucinate. The lighting around them was being reflected in their eyes. They were wearing contacts. Anything with scientific meaning behind it was easier to except than the possibility that she was being held by a monster.

Before she could generate any more logical conclusions, she and the rest of the hostages were being hauled toward the building's doors. All she could think of was how ironic this all was. Her one dream to get inside the building was coming true and now she was probably going to die in it. What a perfect example of karma.

Everything happened so fast and yet so slow at the same time. One of the gang members kicked open the doors which resulted in the lock being broken and glass shattering everywhere. Valeska could hear her attacker shouting orders at the frightened obese security guard scurrying to hide under the safety of his desk, but she couldn't make out the words. It was like she was a puppet, disassociating herself from the event. A small group of police officers appeared suddenly from a back room. More words were exchanged, but they seemed to fall on deaf ears. Right as the officers appeared to be raising their weapons, one of the gang members leapt into action. He grabbed one officer, breaking his neck instantly while still holding his kidnapped victim.

The speed and strength of this man was incredible, and within a blink of an eye he had grabbed another one. This time he sank his teeth into the neck of the officer, tearing it open and causing blood to spray everywhere. The gurgled screams of the officer fell silent soon after, triggering the remaining officers to open fire, regardless of the hostage the monster held. Despite being shot at several times, the gang member barely batted an eyelash. His victim, a young man, was riddled full of bullets however so he was tossed aside like a ragdoll, his body hitting the tile with a sickening thud.

Valeska found she was unable to look away from the sheer terror of the chaotic scene unveiling in front of her. These men weren't human, they couldn't be. They really were monsters, but what kind she couldn't tell nor bother to care at the moment. She was too caught up with trying to convince herself that she had fallen asleep back home in front of the TV. The more she tried though, the more that thought was slipping away. It was too real to be a dream.

More gunfire unleashed this time from a different group of heavily armed men carrying assault rifles who seemed to appear out of nowhere. This time the gang of monsters were taken by surprise as this new group did not seem to have any concern for the hostages who were either now dead or soon to be.

Suddenly, she felt herself being pulled in a new direction as the gang leader rushed toward the open elevator doors. He threw her roughly inside and smashed the top button labeled PH while being fired at multiple times. Valeska found herself cowering in the corner pathetically. As the doors closed she saw what appeared to be a towering grey skinned being with a large blade charging toward who knows. He didn't look human either so she assumed he must be working with the other villains.

"Damn it!" her attacker shouted, punching a dent in the doors as the elevator moved up. He looked down at her and grabbed her up by her neck. She got the first look at who had kidnapped her and if there was any doubt about him being a monster, it was erased now. His eyes were just as blood red as the others, but to match his fierce eyes, he had a mouth full of sharpened teeth that jutted out at all angles. The only comparison she could think of with his teeth was the deep sea fish she enjoyed reading about.

"Please don't hurt me!" She begged feeling pitiful, "Whatever you want I can get it for you. I can even pay you large sums of money if you want!" Her penniless self was lying of course. He growled furiously and slammed her head against the wall. Stars flew into her eyes and she felt like she might pass out. A sweet irony taste filled her mouth, blood.

"Shut the hell up you worthless weak human!" He snarled at her with hate. "There is nothing you can give me except your blood. I should just drain you now and take on the Prince by myself." She tried to murmur something, probably to request information as nothing he said made sense, but she found herself unable to get the right words out. Who was this Prince? What was he the Prince of? Drain her of what? Blood? Her head was spinning now, and images of vampires entered her mind briefly. It was a ridiculous notion though. Everyone knew vampires weren't real. They stemmed from mythology and popular horror movies, not reality.

A soft ding was heard and shortly after the elevator doors opened. The gang leader whirled around, still holding her by the throat as he rushed down a dimly lit hallway. Valeska had no sense of where she was going, until the monster holding her used his shoulder to bash in a pair of beautiful looking doors.

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**Author's Note: **So what did you think? I'd love to hear from you so please drop a review if you can. Everyone's favorite Prince will make his grand appearance in the next chapter, so stay tuned!


	2. Desperate Deals

**Author's Note: **I decided to upload the second chapter so soon after the first, so that you, the reader, can get a better feel for the story. Like the first chapter, it leaves off on a slight cliff hanger. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Again, I do not own anything except my character, Valeska Latimer.

**Warning: **This chapter is rated T for coarse language, violence, and because LaCroix is a jerk. :P

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**Chapter 2 Desperate Deals**

Despite her terror and confused state, there was no way Valeska could resist taking in the beauty of what lay before them. Apparently they were in a large office that was beautifully decorated to resemble an older time period. The floors were of a lightly colored wood with intricate designs, and a long red and gold rug lay in the middle of the room. The lower parts of the walls were a cream color with gorgeous gold inlays and tall pillars, while the upper half was a pale blue in color that rose up into the high vaulted white and gold ceiling. Classic pieces of artwork decorated the walls adding to the beauty and all around there were tall chestnut colored cabinets that were empty. On one side of the large room, a cozy fireplace was ablaze in front of bright red sofas. On the other side of the room were the same colored armchairs sitting next to a table with candle sticks alight. Everything seemed to complement itself perfectly, and drew attention to the main piece of the room: a large mahogany desk with a black leather chair turned toward the back of the room which had several large windows.

Slowly the chair turned around to reveal a very pale man who appeared to be in his early twenties. He was dressed in a fine dark suit, had light blonde hair, and fair facial features. His expression was serious, and he had an air of confidence and intelligence about him. This must have been the Prince her attacker had been talking about. Was he royalty then? He kind of looked like a Prince she supposed. On any normal occasion Valeska knew she would have found herself quite attracted to him on first glance. Seeing as how she knew that she could be dead at any point within the next few minutes though, this thought didn't really cross her mind.

"Ahh, an associate of the Sabbat," the pale man sighed, his tilted head in his hand. His eloquent voice had an accent to it, but she couldn't quite place it. British perhaps? "It would figure it would be your sect launching this attack. So what is it you want do I dare ask?" Valeska felt the claws around her neck tighten painfully as they cut into her flesh. Warm blood slowly started oozing from her neck. She winced and looked at the man in the chair with pleading eyes, but he barely seemed to neither notice nor care that she was there.

"Your life Prince! This city belongs to those who actually embrace the power of Caine, not the frail puppets of the Camarilla!" the Sabbat snarled furiously. She noticed as her attacker's breathing got heavier and heavier. He began to sniff her which frightened her further. She got the feeling she was being seen more as a piece of meat more than anything. Slowly the Sabbat member inched his way closer toward the Prince, who did not make any attempt to arm himself or flee.

"And so you assembled a handful of your people and hoped that by using hostages you might succeed? Pathetic and somewhat offensive you would consider it so easy to eliminate me. I find it astonishing your kind continues to exist when it is clear you are nothing more than an infuriating pest that refuses to perish, much like a cockroach I expect," the Prince replied irritably as if this were a minor nuisance and not something to be worried about.

"You're wrong! The Sabbat is more powerful than ever and each day we grow stronger with more who flock to our glorious cause. Soon the streets will over flow with the blood of the kine and kindred alike!" the Sabbat shouted with glee as if he could see this nightmare happening before his eyes.

The two argued for a few more brief moments with things Valeska could only guess at their meaning. The only thing she could tell for sure was that the pale Prince was stalling for time and that the Sabbat guy was eating right into his hand. However this did little to comfort her. She was still terrified, confused, and constantly growing more anxious by the second as her assailant seemed less concerned with killing the blonde Prince and more with her scent that he was outright inhaling now. The man in the chair noticed this as well, and smirked as though he had won a prize.

"It would appear you have denied yourself blood for quite some time. How very rare in a culture such as yours. Go ahead and quench your thirst. I fail to see any sway she might hold over this discussion anyhow," the Prince said while waving his hand as if she were nothing. Her heart skipped a beat. He was joking right? Prince or not, this guy was an ass if he was going to just sit there and do nothing to help her. She felt her oxygen steadily being cut off as her attacker's grip tightened even further, making her panic.

"First the bastard, then the bitch," the Sabbat growled lowly.

"You - will - kill the human NOW!" the Prince commanded. Valeska felt something change in the air, like a wave of energy had passed through her to the Sabbat. Without warning she felt herself slammed against the closest wall as her attacker moved to bite her neck. Too terrified to move and unable to scream, all she could do was whimper and wait for the inescapable. She barely noticed behind her however, that the Prince had moved quickly behind the Sabbat member. He was holding what appeared to be some kind of fancy ankh knife, but that was all she saw as an intense pain erupted from her neck.

What happened next she couldn't quite describe. It was clear he was drinking her blood, but the rate at which he was doing so and the pressure of his hand on her neck increased her disoriented state. Her head felt light as a feather, but her body felt heavier than she could ever recall. No sort of rational thought was able to cross her mind, just blurred images and ramblings.

Just as she thought she couldn't remain awake a second longer her attacker stopped dead in his tracks. Her eyes which were closed from the pain she opened slowly to see that the Prince had stabbed the Sabbat member directly in the heart through his back. Her body slumped to the floor out of exhaustion though feeling her oxygen returning helped to clear her head slightly. She could still feel the blood leaking from her neck, but it was not too much. Had she been lucky enough that he hadn't ripped her artery open, or had he instead drunk too much of her blood that little remained? His maw surely would have done quite a bit of damage. She opened her mouth to thank her savior or at least ask him to call for medical assistance, but in place of words only blood trickled down. She started to have a coughing fit as specks of blood flew out.

She turned her attention to her attacker, hoping that he was dead, but instead seeing his eyes darting back and forth like mad. He was still alive no doubt, but it would appear he was paralyzed. The elevator doors dinged and in came the gigantic ashen skinned person she saw earlier downstairs. His sword and most of his body were covered in a crimson liquid.

"L-look out!" Valeska managed to shout toward the Prince whose attention was on the paralyzed monster. He turned lazily toward the massive creature and smiled slightly.

"Are they all taken care of?" the Prince asked, his hands clasped behind his back. The hulk of a being simply nodded and looked down at the man on the floor. "You know what to do then." Another nod and the giant easily raised his sword, which was more like a colossal slab of metal, over his head. In one fell swoop he sent his weapon crashing down over the helpless monster on the floor, decapitating him instantly. To her surprise, instead of a bloody mess, the monster's body burst into some kind of fire and finally into grey ash.

By now with everything that happened, Valeska's eyes were as big as saucer plates. Here she was, probably about to die depending on how much blood she had lost, and she was slowly starting to piece everything together.

"Holy shit…you guys ARE vampires!" she exclaimed. It all made sense now. The claws, the red eyes, the pale skin, the constant speak of draining her, the vicious slaughter of the others, and the mention of Caine which who was the father of vampires in mythology. With all this evidence staring her down she had no choice but to except the fact that the famed creatures of the night, were real.

"Look at me," the Prince commanded.

Slowly she brought herself to look into her rescuer's eyes which were greyish light blue in color. In his eyes she saw so much in such a small moment: pain, anger, ambition, frustration, but above all else, a cold indifference toward her. If it was one thing she prided herself in, it was her ability to read a person just by looking into their eyes which she often called the windows to the soul. However, this man, if he even was a man, seemed almost to be lacking in that.

"What is your name?" he asked in a gentle tone that surprised her.

"V-Valeska," she stuttered. His eyes were still cold, but his tone was warm. She knew this ploy as she used it all the time. He was trying to lure her into a sense of comfort, but why?

"An ambulance will be here shortly. For now you shall be escorted downstairs," he informed her softly, "About what you saw tonight, you -will- forget it." Once again the same wave of energy came at her, but this time it entered her own head. She felt her consciousness being placed in a relaxed state of mind, but at the same time she could still feel an intruder. It was like a worm crawling in her mind searching for something, but it only lasted a moment.

"And how do you suggest I go about doing _that_?" Valeska asked him with more attitude than she intended. The Prince's eyes widened slightly with surprise, but in a moment his emotionless expression returned. Somehow he suddenly seemed more appealing, like there was a comforting aura about him.

"You -WILL- forget everything you saw tonight," he repeated. There was more crawling around in her brain, and a commanding whisper sounded itself over and over again. She felt light headed, but as suddenly as it had appeared, the feeling vanished.

"No I won't!" Valeska shouted aggressively, "I just saw innocent people slaughtered, their necks torn open and fed upon by monsters I didn't even know existed until tonight! One doesn't just forget that kind of thing and your stupid attempt at a Jedi mind trick isn't going to change that!"

The Prince frowned and began to look slightly irritated. His giant assistant/bodyguard as she assumed he was, looked slightly surprised too, but it was hard to tell through his grumpy indifferent expression. Silence fell upon the room as the Prince looked deep in thought.

"Look I appreciate you saving my life," Valeska began politely as she slowly attempted to stand up, "And I'm going to assume you egged that guy on to kill me in order to get the jump on him. However I have an important test tomorrow in my calculus class, so I'm just going to go downstairs." She shocked even herself with how she spoke, and even more so that she was still concerned with her college credits. Maybe it was denial with what just happened. It would be so easy to pretend that vampires weren't real, and what she saw was just a nightmare. In a moment she might wake up in front of the TV, realize she ate too much junk food before bed, and the sugar is what made her have such vivid dreams. Unfortunately for her though, this was not to be.

"No, I am afraid I cannot simply allow you to go free," the Prince said sternly.

"Then what are you going to do with me..?" Valeska asked, fear rising within her again.

"Kill you," he replied with a bored expression, "You know too much to allow you to live and I find myself unable to erase your memory." His tone was as cold as his eyes now.

"But I have family…and friends! You can't just murder me and get away with it!" Valeska knew that was partially a lie, but she was desperate and trying to buy time until she could think of a way to escape. She could overpower this dainty looking "Prince" if need be, but not his huge friend with the sword. She would have to rely on words to get out of this one.

"Every hostage downstairs has been killed, so it would not be some startling discovery if another body was added to the fray. Judging by the wound you have suffered and the amount of blood you have lost, you won't live much longer without immediate medical attention anyhow," he replied nonchalantly.

"You don't have to kill me, I could be very useful to you if you let me," Valeska said hurriedly. The Prince raised an eyebrow at this. She knew now that her time was even more limited. Not only would she have to change his mind, but she would have to do it quickly.

"I very much so doubt someone like you could be of any benefit to me," he said coolly, "The only reason I would allow you to live is to satisfy my own curiosity with how you were able to resist my attempt to Dominate your mind."

"I'll tell you if you let me live." This was a long shot she knew because she herself had no idea. He had some kind of mind control ability and hell if she knew why it hadn't worked on her.

"Please give me the dignity of not attempting to play me as a fool," the Prince said with a small laugh, "I have been alive for over two hundred years and can see right through this façade. By all means if it pleases you to devote your last moments of life begging, continue. I have the power to save your life if the correct words are applied." With this he turned to sit back down at his desk. He folded his hands on top of one another and watched her with only enough amusement to give her hope that maybe she could find a way out of this mess.

"Please, I may not look like it, but I have a wide range of skills that you can make use of," she said walking closer to his desk trying to ignore the pain emanating from her neck and head.

"Such as?" he asked sounding annoyed.

"I can hack into almost anything and I'm real good with electronics. I'm also quite stealthy and can sneak my way into any building." The last part was a lie. She wasn't that good at being stealthy, otherwise she would have found a way into the Venture Tower with ease rather than staring up at it every other night.

"Then it is a shame the Sabbat failed to launch this attack on the Nosferatu instead of myself. They could make use of someone like you no doubt," he said sarcastically as if she knew all about what he was talking about.

"I can pick locks and steal anything you might want," she said disregarding his statement and pushing onward.

"Why would I need someone to steal something when I possess vast sums of money to attain anything I desire?" he replied with an air of superiority. This guy was seriously ticking her off and by now there wasn't a single thing she liked about. Everything from his superiority complex he obviously suffered from, right down to his annoying accent made her want to break his nose. However she tried to ignore these aspects of him. She could hate his snobbish rich guy attitude when she wasn't at risk of bleeding to death.

"I'm an expert with guns, knives, and hand to hand combat. If you need someone eliminated I can do that no problem," she said placing emphasis on the word expert which was a laugh. Her knowledge on weapons and how to fight was incredible, but actually employing the techniques she had little luck with.

"I have a highly trained army of men employed under me who take care of that," he said quickly countering her offer. Valeska bit her lip, thinking hard on what to offer next, but her mind was running on empty. She considered telling him she was good at information seeking and manipulation, but seeing as how he just said he had mind control and an army she doubted he would be interested. She took a deep breath and said the last thing she could think of.

"I could…uhm…provide you company during the lonely nights. I've been told I'm very good at that," she muttered while averting her eyes. He_ was_ physically attractive, but selling her body to this man in return for her life was an idea that made her stomach churn.

"If I ever had the aspiration to take part in such a lowly act I would elect someone of a higher caliber I think," he spat out in disgust that offended Valeska more than she thought it would.

She didn't have that much time to think about it though as she felt her legs give out. Her last plan was to try to make a run toward the elevator, but now even that was impossible. She had run out of ideas and the only thing she could do now was to face the bittersweet ending to her life's performance. Part of her had always wanted to die, mostly out of her depression. Now though, when she was looking death right in the eyes, it was more terrifying than she could ever imagine. Would anyone even miss her? Probably her grandma, but when she moved to LA for a new life she had left everyone else behind.

"Move her, the last thing I need tonight is blood staining my rug," she heard the Prince say to his bodyguard. In a final moment of clarity, it hit her: blood!

"Wait!" she shouted weakly, "My blood, you can have it."

"I only drink blood of the finest quality," the Prince said with the same arrogant tone.

"Please…it's all I have left to offer..." The lights in the room started to get brighter, and her ears were suddenly more sensitive. Was this normal when one was dying? It didn't last long, as her senses one by one started to give out. She heard the Prince say something, but it only came out as a mummer as her hearing slowly died. Her vision got blurry and though she felt mostly numb, she was able to make out her arm being lifted. Then her world went dark, and even the faintest feelings that remained, vanished completely.

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**Author's Note: **My goodness is LaCroix difficult to write for! I hope I captured his personality well enough, and that I'm not making him out to be too much of a prick. Let's all admit though, LaCroix is an ass no matter how you look at it. I've noticed that I have a bad habit of rereading and rewriting entire sections of each chapter over and over until I've no idea if it's good or not. So please, drop me a review and let me know of your thoughts! I'm always eager for improvement.


	3. The Making of a Ghoul

**Author's Note:** This chapter is rather short and takes place through Lacroix's point of view. Not every chapter will be through Valeska's eyes only, but rather through some of the characters we all know and love. I also wanted to thank mahh for the review, it is much appreciated! :)

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Val.

**Warning: **Rated T for dark themes.

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**Chapter 3 The Making of a Ghoul**

Sebastian LaCroix, the Ventrue Prince of the LA vampires, wasn't quite sure what to think of the current situation. He had not been expecting the Sabbat to make such a foolish and bold move by directly attacking his tower. He especially had not been expecting them to think of using hostages either, not that it mattered to him whether any of them lived or died. The only downside he could consider is a potential lawsuit from friends or family of the fallen victims, but even that bothered him little. For now the direct threat had been taken care of and the Masquerade upheld. In place of one problem though, he was now facing a new one. Lying on his office floor was the young woman, Valeska, whom he found strangely intriguing.

When he first saw her being dragged in by the Sabbat vampire, he paid little attention to her. Even when she might be used to his advantage by controlling his enemy to feed on her, he held little concern. It wasn't until he got a whiff of her blood did his interest perk. The unique scent that he couldn't quite place was almost overpowering. Still, he curbed his hunger knowing that erasing her memory was more important. Besides, feeding directly from kine was something he avoided unless absolutely necessary. He preferred his blood to be of the highest grade and poured within a crystal glass before ever venturing to put his lips to it. He was Ventrue after all, a high class and sophisticated vampire who enjoyed the finest things that life had to offer.

When his attempt to wipe her mind outright failed not once, but a second time when combined with his Presence discipline, he knew something was wrong. She did not appear to be the type of human who would have a high enough willpower to resist him. His curiosity was high no doubt, but none the less she would have to die so that the Masquerade would remain intact. It was as simple as that. Being an influential leader and a Ventrue to top it off, he had to serve as an example to the others of his kind.

When she began to beg for her life and attempt to sell herself to him, he found it mildly amusing. He could tell she was intelligent, but her desperate words made it easy to see through many of her lies. Her actions made her untrustworthy and it irritated him that she thought she could fool him. At one point he came very close to telling his Sheriff to simply kill her right there and then to shut her up. Then she turned around and offered the only thing he found that kine were useful for besides being servants, their blood.

"Please just try it…it's all I have left," she muttered weakly. That was something they could both agree on. He looked down at her from his desk knowing she probably only had a few moments left. Her eyes were slowly glazing over, so what did he have to lose really? He pushed back from his desk and walked over to her.

"Hand me my dagger," he ordered to his Sherriff who complied immediately. In one hand he held his favorite glass, and now in the other the weapon he had used to paralyze the Sabbat vampire only moments ago. Kneeling down he slit her wrist and managed to get a small trickle of blood into his crystal cup which he brought to his nose to inhale. The scent of it so close to him now overwhelmed him and without a second thought he greedily began to drink.

He could not quite explain what happened to him once her blood touched his lips. It was obviously the sweetest blood he had ever tasted, but suddenly images of his birthplace flittered through his mind. He found himself literally standing in Calais, France, and to his amazement he realized that it was a sunny cloudless day. Instead of bursting into flames though, he could feel comforting warmth emanating from the sun onto his pale skin. The sandy white beach lay before him with the oceans crashing against the nearby hills, a beautiful sound he had almost forgotten.

LaCroix closed his eyes taking in the wondrous scent of the sea which unlike the dirty Pacific Ocean, smelled pure. A feeling of satisfaction washed over him, enveloping him in a tornado of emotions he hadn't felt in decades. Any worries or negative feelings he had were erased completely, and he felt as if he could spend an eternity in this new found paradise. Before he could enjoy the moment further though, he found himself thrown abruptly back into his penthouse. He opened his eyes not even realizing that he had collapsed on the floor at some point. Standing over him was a concerned looking Sheriff.

"I'm fine," LaCroix finally managed to say while sitting up and waving his bodyguard away. His voice sounded off to him, like it was far away. He wanted to ask exactly what happened, and how long he had been out, but lying next to him was the unconscious Valeska. Moving quickly he felt for her pulse, which was there but very sluggish. There was still enough time to do what needed to be done then.

Reaching over he found his dagger and slit his own wrist before bringing it to the woman's lips and prying her jaw open. He propped up her head in the hopes that his blood would move down her throat more easily. After what just happened and the events of earlier, he couldn't let her die. Her blood was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted in his entire life and the side effects of such blood were too precious to pass up. Until he found out exactly what she was and what caused those vivid hallucinations, she would remain alive.

After a few moments of letting her feed on his wrist, he saw her eyes flutter open. He eyed her neck, not to feed on it, but to see how quickly her wound was healing. As expected the large punctures were almost closed. Seeing this he removed his wrist from her mouth and licked his cut which vanished almost immediately. This was a trick that most vampires knew of and had come to rely on after feeding on kine. It was better to clear all evidence of a feeding session as to avoid suspicion from other humans.

Valeska said nothing to him, but seeing as how she was still partially out of it Sebastian didn't mind. He used the moment of silence to take in her physical appearance which he had overlooked earlier. She was of average body size, not really skinny and not really large, but with a decent hourglass figure. Her wavy brunette hair came down about an inch past her shoulders. Looking into her eyes he couldn't quite tell what color they were. Green maybe? It was hard to tell through her glasses. The rest of her face revealed a thin nose, prominent cheekbones, and a slightly long chin. Her wardrobe was a bit shabby and simple, with a low cut black tank top, tattered jeans, a long sleeved jacket and worn out sneakers. Overall she was a reasonably attractive woman probably in her early twenties. If such things really mattered to him or if he were human that might mean something, but it did not.

"Wha…" she moaned softly. He could see in her eyes that she was starting to register her surroundings more. Gently he placed her head back on the carpet and moved to help her stand up. "Am I dead…?"

"Not at all, I saved your life by nourishing you with my blood," he replied watching her reaction closely in case she did anything foolish. Now that she was on her feet he went back to his desk and sat down. She still looked wobbly though and he gestured for his Sheriff to bring one of the arm chairs over. He did as he was told as always and Valeska plopped down weakly in the chair.

"Thanks I guess," she murmured holding her head while looking incredibly disoriented, "Does this make me a vampire then?" He could tell that the thought of being a vampire unnerved her so he quickly shook his head to put her at ease.

"No, but it does make you my ghoul," he replied trying to suppress his smile. Whatever happened from here on out, he had her exactly where he wanted.

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**Author's Note:** Like I said, this chapter was short! I want to take my time and develop the characters and their thoughts better, but at the same time I don't want to drag the story out. I need to keep my readers interested after all. Some of you may be surprised that I'm making Valeska into a ghoul rather than a vampire, but for story purposes this fits in better with the general direction. If you have any ideas, critiques, compliments, or anything you wish to share, please drop me a review! : )


	4. Changing Careers

**Author's Note: **This is the longest chapter I've produced yet. I'm at that point where I'm going through each chapter a dozen times to make sure that my story won't cause bleeding of the eyes. No, but honestly I don't have a beta reader and I know for sure that I'm prone to mistakes so I apologize! Also, I'm wanted to clarify that my story will probably NOT follow the Bloodlines plot until further on if I decide to even follow it. Thanks for reading, enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Blargity blarg, I own nothing except my original characters.

**Warning:** Most chapters here on out will be rated T for coarse language, violence, and dark themes. Later on there will chapters rated M for steamy bits, but it will be awhile.

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**Chapter 4 Changing Careers**

The first thing Valeska became aware of was a sweet irony taste running down her throat. The flavor was magnificent and she found it difficult to think of a time in her life when she had partaken in something tastier. She felt incredibly relaxed and even though she knew she was probably dead, she found the thought strangely comforting. Her other senses started to come back and she could make out a sharp stinging feeling in her wrist that was slowly fading. Upon opening her eyes she saw the pale Prince, but something was different about him. Before, if she could have gotten away with it, she would have punched him squarely in the jaw for being a stuck up asshole. Now though, he looked like he almost deserved the title of Prince, and her hatred toward him had dulled for some reason.

"Am I dead?" she asked as he helped her stand. She took small delight in the brief skin on skin contact, even if his hands were ice cold. Bringing her still slightly sore arm to her neck she noticed that her bite marks had nearly vanished. Then, as her arm was at eye level, she saw what had been causing her the sharp feeling from earlier: a vertical slash mark. To her amazement though, the wound was healing before her very eyes.

"Not at all, I saved your life by nourishing you with my blood." Even his voice sounded more angelic now. These new findings confused her greatly and only because she had so many questions was she able to pull herself away from her tangled thoughts of him. At least the question of what was causing her rapid healing had been answered. She had read somewhere that vampire blood had healing attributes to it, but now she was only hoping she would have the memory to recall what else she had read in the past about them. The Prince left her side to sit at his desk and she felt a chair come up from behind her. She more fell back into it than she did sit, but she was still rather weak.

"Thanks I guess," she said trying to express how grateful she was without revealing her disoriented state. She held her aching head when the thought of becoming a creature of the night struck her. "Does this make me a vampire then…?"

She met his eyes hoping she didn't look too disturbed by this thought. In her mind she didn't think it would be too horrible to be a blood sucking monster. She enjoyed the night after all and immortality would be a huge bonus for her to study everything she ever wanted. However, the thought of never being able to partake in human food again was what worried her. A life without pasta, pizza and pie sounded like a very depressing existence.

"No, but it does make you my ghoul," he responded after shaking his head. On his face he wore an expression she found unreadable.

"What's a ghoul?" she asked with a furrowed brow.

"Any living being that drinks of vampire blood will become a ghoul and be bound to their provider as a result. As a ghoul you will be physically stronger, faster, and be able to heal more quickly than the average human. Additionally you will never age, but only if you continue to partake of the blood," the Prince explained, "Other than that, you shall still be able to live a more or less, normal existence." She held back her laughter at his last sentence. Anyone who considered drinking vampire blood a regular part of life was seriously lacking in the department of the average reality.

"What's the catch then?" Her aching head was fading and she could feel her intuition returning. Was it paranoia she felt now or was it just common sense not to trust someone who saw you as dinner? She wasn't sure, but her introduction to vampires so far had been a poor one.

"Well I presume if you do not feed for an extended period of time it could have…unpleasant side effects."

"So I could end up a slave to your blood then?" she asked softly. From what he was saying it sounded like vampire blood could potentially be like a drug. Would she be addicted to it, to him now? She shuddered inwardly at the thought of doing anything to please the Prince to satisfy her urges. Even if now for whatever reason she didn't hate him quite as much, being a servant to someone like him was not a life she wanted to lead. What a nightmare this was turning out to be.

"You should be grateful I bothered to even save your life, let alone give you my superior blood," the Prince said angrily while feigning insult that Valeska saw right through. It also irritated her that like a well-trained politician he was dancing around her inquiries as to carefully avoid ever answering them.

"Why did you save me then? From the looks of it you were more than happy with letting me die before." She wasn't trying to anger him, but she wanted answers. Until she got them she wasn't going to back off.

"I had planned almost from the beginning to grant you this privilege," he replied evenly, "Your willpower is higher than most humans I've encountered which places you directly above them. Also, your previously indicated skills could be of use to me."

"It's more than that isn't it? You barely seemed interested before, so what aren't you telling me?" she demanded, more confident now that she wasn't in danger of bleeding to death.

"If you would let me finish…" he began making her feel foolish, "Unexpectedly, your blood is of high class. When I recognized this and added it to what you had to offer, I had a change of heart. You must understand that when you're the leader of a secret society of vampires that adheres to a strict set of laws in order to remain hidden, sometimes sacrifices are required. Do you have even the slightest idea of what could occur should my kind be exposed to the public?"

"I suppose there would be an increase at the local monster hunting clubs. That or a long line of goth kids lining up to be turned into bloodsuckers," she replied with a smirk hoping he would get a laugh out of her antics or at the very least lighten the mood of the room. Humor was her number one method of dealing with stressful situations after all. He did not appear to share this ideology though, and his glare made her smile disappear quickly. Man this guy was a stick in the mud.

"A crude response to my query, but your presumption, or at least the first part, is an accurate one. Once a vampire is discovered, hunters will never cease to destroy one. Eliminating you was the only sure way to ensure the safety of myself and uphold the Masquerade. As an intelligent young woman I think you can comprehend my actions." As he spoke he moved his hands in a theatric sort of way that revealed even more so how highly he thought of himself.

"What is the Masquerade?" Valeska asked ignoring his forced compliments and denying him an agreement to his statement. She could see the logic behind what he was saying, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know that.

"I'll spare you the details for now, but the Masquerade, simply put, is a set of laws that we vampires abide by in order to mask our actions in human society and thus survive to see another night."

"Ahh, that makes sense," she stated, now seeing the correlation for the use of the word.

"Of course it does, and any practical person would agree with me when I state that is a vital part of modern vampire socie –," he said before being cut off by the ringing of a cell phone. He sighed irritably before pulling his phone from his pocket and opening it. "Is there a reason you should be disturbing me?" A long pause. "So you're telling me you are incapable of handling this then?" Another pause. "I see. Very well then, stall them for another five or ten minutes and I'll be down momentarily."

Before the recipient of the phone call could even reply, he had snapped his phone shut. Valeska was appalled at how rude this man truly was. Being over two hundred years old as he had stated earlier, and in all that time he hadn't learned any manners. Or perhaps it was simply that he failed to show them to those he didn't consider his equals. She wondered briefly if the narcissistic Prince considered anyone his equal, probably not.

"Now then, as I am pressed for time I shall cut to the chase and propose a deal with you," the Prince announced, breaking Valeska from her thoughts, "In exchange for your services and more importantly your blood, I shall provide my own vitae let us say…every other week of the month. If that fails to interest you I can compensate you with money for each task successfully completed." He was walking toward her now, his hands clasped behind his back.

"And if I say no?" she bravely asked as his eyes narrowed. He stopped in front of her and leaned in close to her face causing her to feel an increase in anxiety. He was not a tall man, but seeing as how she was seated and he was not, his temporary height increase added to the intimidation she felt.

"Seeing as how you almost died a moment ago I would not be so bold if I were you," he replied in low threatening tone, "If my terms offend, I can easily provide you with new ones that swiftly rectify your present state of living with the snap of my fingers."

Valeska knew what he meant; he was going to kill her if she said no. If it wasn't obvious enough, the Prince's towering defender stood behind him looking like he was just itching for the chance to chop her head off. Was he bluffing? She couldn't be too sure and it wasn't something she wanted to risk either. Part of her felt angry and cheated, but the other side knew that she had been offering the very things he wanted now only moments ago. It just seemed like a cheap shot to make on his part. Maybe there was a bright side to this though. This could be her shot at making something out of herself. She did need work and here standing right in front of her was a seemingly wealthy vampire who could give her all the work she would ever need. In the end, she had little choice.

"I'm waiting," he said coolly as his hand rose. He brought his thumb and middle finger together as if he were going to snap them.

"Well when you put it that way, how can I say no?" she said quickly with an uneasy laugh, "I accept your terms happily." She silently decided to stick to being paid with cold hard cash rather than his blood. If what he said was right, the last thing she needed was to become an addict.

"Superb," he said happily with a smile that looked odd on his normally serious face. He stepped back allowing the personal space she desired to return. "Allow me to introduce myself properly then. My name is Sebastian LaCroix. I am the head of the industrious LaCroix Foundation as well as the Camarilla Prince of the vampires that reside here in downtown LA."

Valeska caught herself before her jaw dropped in shock. This was the influential multi-millionaire CEO she had heard so much about? She realized with irony that only a few months ago she had submitted a job application for a secretarial position to his organization. Now she had been practically handed a job directly from one of the most powerful players in California. His resume was impressive to be sure and she found herself biting her lip nervously trying to think of a way to introduce herself without sounding like she was a nobody. Who was she kidding though? Compared to him she was an ant.

"Uhm…my name is Valeska Latimer. I'm a twenty-four year college student majoring in computer science and someone who picks up various side jobs to pay uhm…bills…," she said catching herself just in time before she informed LaCroix about her grandma. She had a suspicious feeling that if he found out about her attachments, he might use them against her in the future. Prince LaCroix eyed her for a moment before moving to his desk to gather some papers. He looked as if he were contemplating something.

"There is one last thing involved with our agreement that you need to be aware of. Since you are employed under me now, your primary concern should naturally then be to serve me to the best of your abilities," her new boss informed her.

"Okay," she replied simply. He looked up at her with an expression that made her feel like she was missing something.

"I don't think you comprehend what this job entails or even the level of difficulty involved then," he stated, "This is not some simple part-time cashier job that will work with your school schedule."

"Well I can't just quit school! My education is the most important aspect in my life, and without it I'll never succeed," she said cautiously, still worried about being threatened again, "I also need my financial aid to survive and if I'm not in college I'll have to start paying back my loans with money I don't have."

"Do your work correctly and there won't be any need to be concerned about your finances," he replied, "As for being successful, as long as you remain useful in my organization there will be plenty of opportunities to make something of yourself."

With the way he spoke, she got the feeling he didn't really care one way or the other for her worries. She wanted so badly to argue against his words or try to persuade him that this was too much of a risk on her part. He didn't seem like the type of person to take failure well so there was no real guarantee that she would still have this job in another year or even a month. She needed something to fall back on in case this didn't work out. She knew though that any attempts to change his mind would fail horribly, so she kept her mouth shut.

"Alright, I guess I'll drop all my classes then…" Valeska said sadly. She felt like she was cutting off a limb or another vital part of what made her who she was: a scholar.

"Very good. You shall remain here tonight and possibly tomorrow as to avoid suspicions from the police in relation to the events of tonight. Is there anyone who needs to be informed of your absence?" he asked hurriedly.

"No, I don't really have anyone," she answered a little too quickly to her dismay. Every night she sent an email to her grandma, but just a few days away wouldn't be cause for alarm. Still, her response sounded a bit suspicious she thought. Had he picked up on it? Unable to stop herself she began to chew her lip anxiously. It was a nervous habit she unfortunately had when she was either faced with a situation she had little control over or when her paranoia got the best of her.

"How unfortunate," he stated without an ounce of sympathy. "Now I need to attend to the press downstairs. Someone will be along shortly to assist you with any inquiries you might have as well as show you to your temporarily accommodations. We shall converse at a later time. Good evening." Without another word he left, leaving Valeska behind along with his bodyguard.

Valeska stood up slowly, feeling much better now physically, but very tired too. She wasn't sure how to feel about the situation though. Her primary concern was her grandma no matter what, but now getting any funds to her seemed bleak as it might be awhile before she actually made any money. She looked up from the ground to see LaCroix's muscle bulging bodyguard standing like a statue in front of her. He still had blood, now dry though, on his ashen leathery looking skin.

"Soooo…uhm…what's up?" she asked awkwardly. He didn't really respond, but instead just stare down at her with his pale red eyes. Feeling nervous she moved away from him and toward the large curtained windows behind Sebastian LaCroix's desk.

Peering out one of the windows she nearly had her breath taken away by the beauty that lay before her. Most the clouds had cleared providing her with gorgeous view of the full moon as well as the streets below. She could just barely make out the flashing blue and red lights of the police cars and ambulances. There were also several vans no doubt belonging to news crews fighting one another to get the latest scoop on what had happened. Looking back up she was able to view further parts of the city and beyond to the hills outside LA. It was truly a site to behold. Behind her she heard doors opening and a woman clearing her voice.

"Excuse me, are you Miss Latimer?" Turning around she saw probably the most stunning woman she had ever seen. She wore a black, form fitting dress that stopped right above her knees; the long sleeves were buttoned back about an inch revealing dainty hands. Due to how low cut the collared dress was, her ample cleavage was on display for the world to see. She also wore a belt (probably designer), dark panty hose, black heels, and was adorned in jewelry from head to toe. Her short almost bright red hair was pulled back into a pony tail, with bits of hair clinging to the sides of her heart shaped face. Finally, she wore purple makeup that complemented her pale celebrity like face. Over all she looked like she had just stepped off a runway.

"Yea," Valeska replied.

"My name is Katrina. I'm here to show you to your room." Katrina motioned Valeska to follow her and so she did, glad to be away from the Prince's bodyguard who was still eyeing her with an indecipherable expression.

The pair remained silent for several moments as Katrina led Valeska down the dim hallway she remembered from earlier. Now however she was able to see that the hallway was also just as attractive as LaCroix's office. As they continued onward, she was able to see into a few of the dark rooms that looked mostly unused, especially the kitchen and dining room. It confused her for a moment until she realized this must have been a penthouse. A few more twists and turns were thrown in and she was sure she would lose herself in such a maze if not provided a map. As if her mind were being read, Katrina suddenly spoke up.

"I know it might seem complicated, but it won't be long until you have this floor memorized," Katrina said in a reassuring tone. At least someone was being friendly toward Valeska which was greatly appreciated.

"Thanks, I hope you're right because I admit I'm really nervous about this all…"

"Well perhaps I can set your mind at ease. Do you have any questions about anything?" she asked kindly.

"Anything? Try everything!" Valeska exclaimed, then realizing how exasperated she sounded. With her now was the only person who hadn't tried to kill or manipulate her tonight, and she was treating her compassion poorly. "Sorry…this is all just a bit much for me. One minute I'm living a normal life and the next it's: Vampires are real and now you're basically the property of one, have a good night!" She heard Katrina chuckle a bit.

"I was in your shoes at one point," Katrina began, "I was made a ghoul one night after a vicious attack that nearly left me dead. A vampire passing by found me and saved my life. In return I pledged my life freely to him. It was hard at first, but I adapted quickly and found that being a ghoul was grand compared to my previous drab life. Before no one cared for me, but my master showered with me love every night."

"Wait you're not a vampire then?" Valeska asked confused. She was sure that due to her pale skin she was one.

"No I'm a vampire now, but he…he wasn't who sired me," she answered back.

"Why not?" Valeska asked curiously.

"My…my master…he died several years ago," Katrina replied miserably, "I can still feel his presence within my aching heart that leaves me wide awake missing his gentle touch." She sighed heavily like she might start crying. "Life without him is like a life without color or music, dull and almost meaningless."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Valeska said gently trying to comfort the woman to the best of her abilities. Emotional displays usually left her feeling uncomfortable because she never knew what to do to help.

Katrina returned a nod and silence fell upon them again. Feeling awkward and unsure of what to say, Valeska started chewing her lip again (damn annoying habit). She contemplated asking a few questions about vampires, but felt it was the wrong time to do so. Luckily Katrina stopped abruptly and opened a door.

"This is where you will be staying for some time, the guest room," Katrina announced. The two of them walked into the room, which like everything else in the building, was breath taking.

The guest room was well sized with soft looking beige carpets and walls decorated with pillars and the same type of paintings LaCroix's office had. There was a light coffee colored dresser with a large mirror resting on top of it, along with a large matching armoire that had elaborate carvings along the sides of it. Right across from the armoire was a four poster queen sized bed with hanging curtains. The silky looking sheets were a dark maroon color and had shimmery golden swirls and curls sewn into them. There was also a large window and two closed doors. Valeska moved to open the first one, which turned out to be a large walk in closet which was logically empty. Upon opening the second door she was met with a large bathroom that had white marble tiled floor, gorgeous granite counter tops with silver sinks, a Jacuzzi tub, and a toilet that was probably just as expensive as everything else.

Over all Valeska was blown away, and she found part of herself accepting this easier and wanting to live here permanently. For the price she paid, it wasn't like her apartment was too horrible, but deep down she always secretly wished she could live the good life. Who didn't after all?

By the look of this room however, it was clear that like the other rooms she had seen, it wasn't being used often. For a brief moment she felt pity toward the Prince and wondered if he even had any friends. Seeing as how she only just met him tonight, she really knew little about him. He seemed the type to have many minions that walked on eggshells to please him, but few, if any genuine companions. Perhaps she could be his friend. Then she realized how absurd that idea was and her pity disappeared when she remembered his cold eyes. Any loneliness he possibly had was his own fault.

"If you require sustenance, the kitchen is down the hall. It's been stocked with a few provisions for you. Is there anything else you will need tonight, Miss Latimer?" Katrina asked pulling Valeska from her thoughts.

"Uh…no thank you. This room is absolutely perfect the way it is," Valeska replied with a tiny smile.

"Very well, you will have fresh clothes tomorrow waiting for you from your apartment. I suggest you get some sleep Miss Latimer. You've been through quite the ordeal this evening." Before Valeska could respond, Katrina quickly bowed her head politely and left shutting the door behind her.

Valeska assumed Katrina must have a lot more work to attend to which was why she left in a hurry. Was she LaCroix's secretary? A flash of jealousy flew through her and she wondered with bewilderment why. It seemed illogical for her to have any feelings of envy, besides the fact that Katrina was drop dead gorgeous. In the back of her mind she felt that same lurking feeling she had when she awoke in LaCroix's arms. Where were these emotions for him coming from? As far as she was concerned she was content with loathing his conceited self.

She shook her head angrily and walked over to shut the lights off. As her eyes adjusted and after she had kicked off her shoes, she did the thing she always loved to do before going to sleep. With the last bit of energy she had, she ran full speed and jumped onto the bed. It was undoubtedly the most comfortable bed she had ever been in, with her body sinking in slightly and the sheets caressing her weary skin. Looking out to the window and seeing an unfamiliar view made her feel uneasy, but she simply reassured herself that by tomorrow she would be back in her homey apartment. With that she slid off her glasses, placed them on the nightstand, and drifted off into a blissful sleep.

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**Author's Note:** Were you able to guess Katrina's clan? It's kind of obvious and though she's not a main character, I found it fun to write for her anyway. The next chapter will contain a certain witty vampire from Bloodlines we all know and love, but I'll keep quiet as to not ruin the surprise. I do hope you enjoyed this chapter, and whether you did or not I'd love more than anything to hear from you. I hate to admit that I'm desperate for feedback, but at this point I've only a vague idea if what I'm writing is any good or not. So please, please, please leave a review! Also, if you want to see any of your favorite characters let me know. I'd be happy to implement them into Val's tale.


	5. Nightly Nuisances

**Author's Note: **Thank you SO much to Ariel, Sasha Naruto, Lily, and aberdeenkev for providing much needed feedback. All of you give me the inspiration to keep writing, so it's much appreciated. I also wanted to thank rednightmare for adding my story to his community which I am very excited to be a part of. Now without further ado I present Chapter 5 (rated T) for your reading enjoyment. This chapter is also quite long, but is through LaCroix's POV.

**Disclaimer**: I OWN IT ALL MWHAHAHA! Not really, just Val. :P

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**Chapter 5 Nightly Nuisances **

Prince LaCroix had barely paid any attention when he went downstairs to deal with the media. His mind was elsewhere, and it wasn't like he needed to put forth that much effort anyway. Mortals were so easy to fool, almost ridiculously so. By the time he was done being interviewed by the police and reporters, he had managed to convince them all that it was a burglary attempt. Recently he had just bought an exquisite and expensive painting at a charity event, so it wasn't like this theory was too far stretched. His Dominate discipline helped him greatly in this matter though, proving that he was more than capable of holding the title of Prince.

What made his job easier is that most of the hostages had been bums and prostitutes off the streets, which meant that it was unlikely they had anyone who would even care they were gone. The chances of a lawsuit along with exposure to his real identity had been drastically reduced now. He was thankful that the Sabbat was idiotic enough that they failed to aim for people who actually mattered in the world. How much preparation had even gone into this half-baked plan?

Whatever the case be, the incident was over now. The only thing he had left to do was to keep an ear to the ground (or more likely make a deal with the Nosferatu to do it for him) in the event that any new evidence appeared to contradict his testimonial or the testimonial of that ridiculous blabbering imbecile he hired for the front security desk. A few of the Primogen had questioned his reasoning behind employing such a foolish man, but that was exactly why he had taken on the obese officer. He was a complete idiot who could be controlled easily, dominate or not.

After wishing a pleasant evening to the last detective, LaCroix decided it was time to head back up to his penthouse. The sun would be up in a few hours and he still had much work to do. There was still unfinished business he had been dealing with before the attack, and now added to that was the problem of what to do with his new ghoul, Valeska.

Over and over he kept replaying his actions within his mind and each time he arrived at the same conclusion: he truly and honestly had not been thinking clearly at the time of saving Valeska's life. He had rushed head first into a situation that should have ended with the girl's death, not a job offer. The Ventrue were supposed to be the primary leaders of the Camarilla and they were meant to lead by example. Only the most worthy were embraced into the clan, and it usually took several months or years of carefully watching the potential member. When it came to ghouls it was just as important to be cautious due to the risk level involved with them. Ghouls had the potential to be a liability any way that you looked at it, especially once a blood bond had been formed. Their obsessive tendencies and addiction to a vampire's vitae was a dangerous combination.

What would the Primogen think when they heard of this though? Would he be stripped of his title and position? He himself had not been forgiving when it came to vampires creating fledglings or even ghouls without his permission because of the risk to the Masquerade. Recently he had even executed a pair of vampire lovers for that exact mistake.

No, he couldn't let himself be so irrational by panicking like this. Sure it had been a last minute decision, but vampires of all types everywhere had ghouls. He himself had his own ghoul, Mercurio, and due to his title he was one of the few in his domain who could sire anyone he wished without permission. If he was careful and schooled Valeska the same way he had with Mercurio, all would be well. Besides, how could the Primogen voice their concern for his actions, when he had handled everything else so flawlessly? The Sabbat threat had been quelled (at least temporarily), the humans remained none the wiser about the existence of vampires, and though it was a rushed decision he now had a new thrall to carry out his orders. He would be alright and if any new complications arose, and he knew they would, he would simply adapt and resolve them accordingly.

Prince LaCroix entered the elevator and tapped the top floor button. As the door shut he saw a dented mark in one of them, no doubt from something the Sabbat member had done. He sighed knowing that it was just one more thing to add to his list of repairs for the downstairs. In a small moment the elevator doors had opened again, revealing the hallway that lead to his office as well as the other rooms of his penthouse. Katrina, one of the many vampires who worked under him, was waiting patiently.

"Good evening Prince LaCroix," she began courteously, "Miss Latimer has been shown to her room, which she seemed very pleased with."

"I could care less if she were tearing the room to pieces right now," LaCroix snapped which surprised him more than it did her. Clearly he was stressed, but it was rare he responded in such a way so openly. "What I want to know is if you have the report on her ready or not."

"I – no sir I do not," Katrina said averting her eyes shamefully, "But it will please you to know that as we speak, my ghoul has been investigating her apartment for information. He's also going to bring some of her best attire here since I'm assuming you won't want to have your new ghoul dressed so poorly in your presence."

LaCroix had to resist rolling his eyes. It was true he didn't want his ghoul running around in such shabby clothing. However he knew that the only reason she had gone ahead with that specific task was because she was Toreador, a very fashionable Toreador. It was common knowledge that most vampires from the Toreador clan dressed in the latest clothes that seemed right off the runway, but Katrina was almost absurdly trendy. No doubt this trait had been inherited from her deceased master, Victor, who LaCroix was personally glad was gone. Victor had been too emotional and acted on a whim with his artistic endeavors rather than bothering to use his head. That was probably why LaCroix had him eliminated in secret. He had been a poor excuse for a vampire and a liability as well, so LaCroix believed his actions were justified.

"Very well. I want that report on my desk tomorrow evening at the earliest, understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Oh, and before I retire, be sure there is food for my ghoul in the pantry."

"Already taken care of sir." She gave him a small smile and LaCroix returned a small nod, which was the most praise his subordinates usually got from him unless he was manipulating them for some greater purpose.

"Good evening then." With that LaCroix left her to enter his office and found his loyal Sheriff still waiting for him. "Good, you are still here. As soon as the authorities have gone, I want you to track down where the Sabbat came from and wipe them out completely."

His Sheriff simply nodded and left the Prince, shutting the doors behind him. To others this resolution might have appeared a bit extreme, but LaCroix knew it was necessary. The Sabbat were a threat and though they weren't organized particularly well, their numbers could quickly increase and become a problem if not carefully monitored. Holding a leadership position that was as important as his, he knew he had to carry the burdens that no one else could. Constantly he had to carry out impartial verdicts that the community might disagree on and each time he had no choice but to be ready to face the music of his decisions that usually turned out to be the best course of action anyway. By his will alone, he could either save or damn the residents of the city of LA which sat in the carefully balanced palm of his hand.

With his half guardian, half law enforcer gone though, he knew he was placing himself at a higher risk of danger. Still, he doubted though that the Sabbat would launch an additional attack so soon. If they were so reckless to attempt to eliminate him again, he still had his highly trained defense force that had been placed on high alert. Besides, his Sheriff was a one man army of his own, so once he found the Sabbat it wouldn't take long for them to be exterminated like the vermin they were.

LaCroix ventured toward his windows and gazed out to a site he had grown nearly bored with. Every night the vibrant city and its people remained the same, but with them were their never ending problems. Some nights the problems were slightly different, slightly unique, but in the end it really was all the same. Anything that was fixed would only remain that way for a short period of time before something else came along to take its place. He knew it came with the job, but sometimes the cons outweighed the pros of being Prince and it was beyond infuriating.

The truth was that his undead existence was nearly the same as his mortal life. There was always someone above him whose position he strived for and always he would work diligently on his every waking breath until he achieved it. There was no doubt that he reveled in the power that he felt he deserved. However over the past two centuries, he had few he could truly rely on and trust besides his Sheriff. The unfortunate part of that situation was that he considered the Sheriff more of a faithful pet rather than a friend, as his character was more of the silent stoic type. He hadn't even been able to trust his sire completely, and what is one to do when they can't trust their maker?

It was his own fault that he had these issues though. When you are constantly manipulating people and events like they were nothing to gain further amounts of authority, you grow to want few, if any friends. He had his followers who did anything he wanted at the drop of the hat and for now that was enough. With a high degree of confidence he knew that it was just an unknown amount of time until eventually the rest of the city would follow suit.

Sebastian continued to stare out his window, contemplating his thoughts a moment longer. The moon was beginning to set in the west, but he took little comfort in the beauty it had to offer. He had hoped it would have at least distracted him from the sporadic thoughts of his new ghoul that kept popping up, but they remained with him. His attempts to try and not think of her just made it all the more difficult to succeed in the endeavor. Was it because he was worried of unknown things yet to come that she was still on his mind? No, it was more than that.

As of that moment, Valeska was a complete mystery to him which irritated him to a small degree. Anyone who was around him he at least liked to have a little background history, but sleeping in a few rooms away from him was a human who baffled him. How was she able to resist both his Dominate and Presence disciplines so easily? Surely her willpower was not that high that she could avoid him. All he knew for certain was that she was audacious for a human as even when she knew he was a vampire her confidence was unwavering. He also found it interesting that she seemed more or less unaffected by the whole ordeal that most would be traumatized from afterwards. What kind of life had she lead before tonight that allowed her to remain so calm, or had that all been an act?

Next there was the question of what made her blood so unique. Why had the taste been so pleasant when it was clear she was part of the common rabble he worked so hard to avoid? And how had it been able to produce what he assumed to be vivid hallucinations? Being a Ventrue, he was naturally a very picky eater who only fed from the highest grade humans life had to offer. Yet in all his past never had he experienced something like this before. Not even from the most intelligent and wealthy kine had he tasted blood so delightful. What was worse was that he had an intense hunger of wanting more which unnerved him.

Soon she would be craving his blood as well and that was exactly what he wanted too. The sooner he had her bonded to him completely, the easier it would be to control her which he predicted he would have issues with. Part of him was worried that the blood bond might not work, and that somehow she would be able to resist him just as before. Still, a blood bond was incredibly powerful, and when she awoke after feeding on him, he could tell in her eyes that something had changed.

A knock at the door tore him from his involved thoughts which he was thankful for. This well timed interruption was exactly what he needed to distract himself from Valeska. He turned from the windows to see Katrina's head poking in.

"I brought you the information my ghoul wrote up," she said walking in and placing a small packet on his desk. In her other hand was a wine glass, which was full of blood.

"Ah yes, that will be all Katrina," he murmured feeling mentally exhausted and glad that she had been thoughtful enough to include his last meal for the night. Katrina nodded and left his presence swiftly. He had spoken with her only moments ago, or so it felt like. How long had he been zoning out by his windows? Looking down at his Rolex watch, he was shocked to see that the face read 5:43. The sun would be up in another hour or so, and he had wasted nearly an hour doing nothing. Feeling frustrated he sat down at his desk and hurriedly began to read through the information.

_Miss Latimer's apartment is very neat and orderly. Despite the small size, she seems to have made good use of it and has several bookshelves, all meticulously and alphabetically organized. The topics of the novels varied, but mainly seemed to focus on medieval history, science fiction, computers, the supernatural and different styles of dance. Her fridge and cabinets were very poorly stocked, containing only ramen, a jug of water, a block of cheese, a bag of popcorn…_

LaCroix skimmed past the short list of food, hoping to find something more useful further in the packet.

_The young woman would appear to have cared little for the endeavors of style seeing as how her closet contained little more than a few pairs of jeans and tank tops. I was dismayed to find only a few good items such as a blouse that might pass in a job interview and a pair of black pumps..._

The Prince resisted the urge to toss the report into the garbage when he discovered that the rest of the page was all based on Valeska's lack of style. Instead he settled on reprimanding Katrina at a later time for influencing her ghoul so heavily. Curse the Toreador and their fixation on the newest trends! Picking up his glass he took in a sip of the blood (which he subconsciously wished was Valeska's) and turned the page.

_However she does not seem to be without hope as her lingerie selection was very alluring._

Sebastian nearly choked on his drink at that line.

"Now why is _that_ important?!" he cried aloud. This was the last time he would allow Katrina's incompetent ghoul to gather data. Even if it was his nature that was to blame, it was clear he wasn't taking this important task seriously enough. He slammed the papers down and rubbed the left temple of his head. If his heart was still beating he knew he would have a headache right about now.

Looking back down he skipped the long paragraph about Valeska's underwear and began to scan the final paragraphs which were about her custom built computer made from seemingly ancient parts, a few unique pieces of art such as mounted display weapons, a small collection of DVD's on obscure films, and finally oddly enough a record player complete with dozens of vinyl records. He moved the papers away deeming them almost entirely useless, and instead picked up a few photographs the ghoul had taken of the apartment.

The small apartment was modest and nothing really popped out to LaCroix that would reveal one thing or another about Valeska's capabilities. The only thing he could tell for sure was that she really was quite organized and had a love for odd things. Then, a final photograph revealed what might be a clue. Her dresser top had numerous candles and different types of stones, even a crystal ball. Perhaps she practiced mystical beliefs that somehow changed the taste of her blood? She did have books on the occult, but it just seemed very doubtful that she had any real power in that area. Why the ghoul had failed to document the crystals irritated him further though and just proved he was not cut for this type of work.

The Prince of LA finished his drink and leaned back in his chair in an attempt to relax. If only he could turn emotions like frustration on and off as easily as he did his ability to feign breathing around humans. It would be at least another night before an official report on Valeska would be compiled, so he had no choice but to wait patiently for it. Until then he would simply take one night at a time and hope news of his unconventional actions would remain quiet for the time being.

Unexpectedly, the doors to his office randomly opened, but no one walked in after they did so. LaCroix leaned forward anticipating what he knew was going to happen next. In front of him in a wisp of smoke, the last person he had wanted to see tonight appeared before him: the ironically named Gorgeous Gary Golden.

"Boo!" the anything but gorgeous vampire shouted with glee, "Did I scare you Princey?"

"Surely by now you would have grown tired of the same parlor tricks," LaCroix responded dryly.

The revolting trickster chuckled revealing his maw of spikey uneven yellow teeth. LaCroix resisted the urge to hold his nose out of forced respect for the Nosferatu Primogen. His normal scent of the sewers he lived in was bad enough, but tonight his breath was especially rotten. If Sebastian had his way, he would keep the entire Nosferatu clan underground where they belonged. He, like many other vampires, disliked having to deal with the creepy sewer rats, but they did have their purposes. The fact that Gary was here at this particular moment however was bad news for the Prince.

"Oh come now, don't tell me that humor in these darkened nights is lost on the oh so prosperous and pompous Prince!" Gary teased.

LaCroix forced a business like smile when deep inside he would have loved nothing more than to call back his absent Sheriff to behead the insolent vampire. It was common knowledge that Gary held little love for LaCroix, or anyone who had a decent exterior for that matter, regardless of clan or sect. The slimy Nosferatu had made himself valuable enough in vampire society that he had the rare privilege of speaking out against anyone without fear of reprisal.

"What is it you need Mr. Golden?" LaCroix asked in an attempt to skip past all the little games Gary loved playing. They were a waste of time in his eyes.

"That's a dangerous question to ask Princey. There is a great deal of many things I would like to have," he began in a low rumbly tone, "A mirror that doesn't crack at my appearance, the conceited stars of Hollywood taking a lesson in humility, and perhaps that pretty little Toreador assistant of yours to have her face permanently disfigured."

"What is it you want at this immediate time?" Sebastian questioned trying to keep his growing annoyance out of the conversation. It had been a long night and his normally reserved approach was vanishing piece by piece every time he was being called "Princey." Gary loved his offensive nicknames and apparently thought that the English variant for princess suited LaCroix just fine.

"I think a better question to ask is what do you want from me?" Gary purred while holding up his long disgusting index finger.

"I fail to see what you mean Mr. Golden," LaCroix lied.

"Oh do spare me! I'm saving you the time of having to send word down to my pleasant haven for the request of a detailed and affectionately made report of appropriated information on the newest member to your family," Gorgeous Gary said, "The least you can do is ask me for it." With that the Nosferatu Primogen pulled up thick poorly bound folder from behind his back that made LaCroix's eyes widen ever so slightly.

"And why may I ask, have you done this?" LaCroix enquired, not bothering to ask how Gary knew of Valeska because he already knew the answer. The Nosferatu had agents everywhere and each of them were masters of obtaining information through one way or another; it's what made them so significant and valuable in Kindred society.

"Maybe it's because I like you, your highness. The sparkle in your eye just brings warmth to my cold, dead heart," Gary said, his words dripping with an unbearable amount of sarcasm, "Are you that naïve that you think I do anything for free? Information is a precious commodity in any walk of life and you're just lucky I happened upon the news of your newborn ghoul so early in the evening."

"Very well, what is it you would request in return?" the Prince asked ignoring his insults which everyone who dealt with Gary on a regular basis had grown accustomed to.

"Well now, how is one to respond when they hear that the mighty Camarilla Prince of LA has created a ghoul whom he had only just met?" Gary questioned grinning from ear to ear. "Tsk, tsk, is your crown growing too heavy for you to bear Princey?"

"I grow weary of your games sewer rat, what DO you want?!" LaCroix demanded angrily. He hadn't realized it, but he found himself standing suddenly from his chair and glaring furiously Gary's yellow orbs.

"Looks like that question answers itself then," the Nosferatu clan leader mocked, "All I want is to meet her, to be one of her first introductions into this terrible world we both share. She must be a _very_ special individual for you to make such a slip up, and I find myself…intrigued." LaCroix knew that the word "meet" in Gary's vocabulary meant to appear out of nowhere, scare someone to death, and then depart after sharing cryptic and frightening words.

"What makes you believe I cannot come up with such information on my own?" Sebastian asked with irritation. He didn't care if his carefully fashioned mask was cracking right now. The two of them were disregarding normal pleasantries and getting right down to the nitty gritty details of a cut throat business proposition. Whether because the sun was due to rise soon or both of them were eager to achieve the best deal, it was apparent that courtesy had been tossed out the window. Time was of the essence and LaCroix wasn't going to waste any more of it lying to Gary.

"You know as well as I that the Nosferatu are the best at what we do. I assembled an accurate full length bundle of goodies in less than six hours. How long will it take you to do the same?" LaCroix knew he was right, and any attempt to argue that fact would at best be returned with more petty insults.

"Fine we have a deal. You may see her tomorrow evening or the night after, I don't care," LaCroix said quickly, eager to get his hands on the folder. "Though I would also request you bring forth any new or developing information related to the Sabbat's attack that occurred tonight."

"Uh, uh, uh!" Gary Golden chided, his eyes glowing with delight, "One thing at a time now. You know I don't give out freebies Princey."

"Give me the folder and get out," Los Angeles's Prince snapped. The sooner the disgusting creature left his presence, the better.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Gary said with a smile as he dropped the packet down on LaCroix's desk. Subtly his eyes traveled down to the report that Katrina's ghoul had made earlier, and that was where they lingered for a moment too long.

Sebastian looked down too wondering if there was a reason outside collecting additional information that held Gary's attention. To his dismay and unfortunate luck he saw that the only paragraph displayed was the one on Valeska's supposedly stylish underwear. If there was ever a time in his unlife existence that he would have wished the most for the Obfuscate discipline to turn invisible, now would have been it. Thank goodness he no longer was able to blush out of embarrassment, because if he could his face would probably be bright red.

"Interesting reading material you have there," the Nosferatu representative said with a laugh, before hooking his thumbs behind the collar of his surprisingly clean looking suit. Before LaCroix could attempt to defend himself Gary uttered one final sentence. "Sleep well Princey, and don't let your enthusiasm for knowledge keep you awake in your coffin." With that Gary tipped an imaginary hat, took an exaggerated bow, and disappeared in the same manner he had appeared only moments ago. After he did, LaCroix's office doors shut quietly leaving the pale Prince alone in his office.

Quickly LaCroix tucked the folder under his arm. He was beyond irritated now and both Katrina and her ghoul would be severely punished for their insolence. It was because of them that he had been made a fool of in front of whom he considered to be the most dangerous member of the Primogen council. At least he had what he wanted, but he only hoped that answers lay within. There was only way to find out, and as he made his way to his sunlight protected bed chambers, he decided a bit of early morning reading wouldn't hurt to do at all.

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**Author's Note: **I hope you had as much fun reading this chapter as I did writing it. Gary is such an awesome character in Bloodlines, one of my favorites next to LaCroix and Beckett. Next chapter will also have another well-known character appear so stay tuned! Finally, if you have any ideas, critiques, compliments, or anything else you'd like to share I'd love to hear from you so drop a review! : )


	6. Vampires 101 An Intro to Kindred Society

**Author's Notes: **Thank you all so much for the support, and especially to rednightmare whose insightful review was incredibly helpful. I have been aiming for a character and story that is exactly as how you described reading about, so I was quite pleased to see that! I do plan to tone down on Valeska's skill set a bit, especially since I want to stay as far away from the Mary Sue stereotype as possible. Addressing the review posted by Sasha Naruto, I will be bringing in characters like Strauss and Beckett later on, but any possible fascination they may have with Valeska will be purely educational. With that I present Chapter 6, which is rated T for anyone who's curious. I actually had to cut this chapter in half because it was too long. Chapter 7 will then pick up exactly where this one left off.

**Disclaimer: **I only own Valeska and Katrina.

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**Chapter 6 Vampires 101: An Introduction to Kindred Society**

Valeska was running, she didn't know where to or even why. There was nothing for her to see in the pitch black night and it was agonizingly cold. Adrenaline surged through her body, blocking out of the sound of her sneakers on the wet pavement and the cool wind she felt in her numb face. The only sound she heard was that of her own terrified pounding heartbeat.

In front of her a soft light burned dimly to reveal a vampire with glowing ruby eyes and jagged teeth. Fear overwhelmed her when she realized it was the Sabbat vampire whom had taken her hostage. In one fell swoop he leapt toward her and grabbed her violently by the throat.

"You think I was going to leave without dinner?" he growled furiously holding her up as if she was as light as styrofoam. Valeska tried to let out a shriek, but only the sound of her gasping desperately air could be heard. He was going to murder her, drain her of her blood and then shred her to pieces. This was the end.

The monster pulled her close, barred his fangs and sank them deep into her neck. Excruciating pain hit her like a truck and she felt like every nerve in her body was on fire. Suddenly she saw the familiar figure of the Prince appear. With a deafening boom, he fired one shot from a handgun into her attacker's head. In a flash of blinding light, he burst into a blazing inferno and then dust.

Valeska fell to the ground, only to look up and see LaCroix holding his hand out to her. He was smiling warmly towards her; his eyes surprisingly full of compassion. Immediately she found herself feeling safe and reached out to take his hand. Gently he pulled her up and embraced her in his arms bringing about a happiness Valeska had not felt in years. Once again he had saved her life.

In the distance a knocking sound could be heard over and over again. It was really beginning to bother her because she just wanted to enjoy this moment. LaCroix pulled back from her and softly caressed her cheek before he spoke.

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!" he shouted in a voice that wasn't his own. Valeska stared at him in disbelief before she realized she was sleeping. Her eyes flung open and she saw the high vaulted ceilings of the guest room. Judging by the type of sunlight illuminating what she saw above her and the shadows emitted, it was probably sometime late in the afternoon. She sat up slowly while rubbing her eyes, wondering why she found herself annoyed at being torn from her dreams. Reaching over she grasped her glasses, placed them on her face, and then glanced over to see who had awoken her.

A middle aged man was standing in her door way holding a tray of food that smelled only mildly interesting. His neatly parted hair was a light chocolate color and Valeska could just make out his deep blue eyes. He was dressed in an open collar maroon shirt that had been unbuttoned about one-fourth of the way down to show off a brown strung necklace of black and white beads. He also wore a grey suit jacket and matching dress pants. His facial structure and overall presence made it look like he were a natural born conman, but she got the feeling he was actually a trustworthy person for some reason.

"Hey there, name's Mercurio," he said in a welcoming manner. His voice had a New York accent to it, which suited him well she thought. "How's it goin' kiddo?"

"Oh, uhm…alright I guess," she mumbled back groggily speculating what he wanted. There was no way he was only there to serve her breakfast, or well early dinner at this point. He looked too well dressed and important. Mercurio walked in and went to place the tray on her bed. "Wait! I…err…don't want to get any crumbs in my bed…" She looked up at him feeling silly, but it was an issue that had always bothered her.

"Aw no problem, the main man has the same problem or guessin' he probably would if he still ate normal food," he said jokingly as he lifted the tray.

"You work for LaCroix then?" she asked knowing it was a dumb question. Who else was he going to work for?

"Yep, have been for a long time now. The hours are long an' the pay's shit, but the vamp blood is what makes the job worth it."

"So you're a ghoul." It was more of a statement than a question really.

Valeska scanned the man carefully. He didn't look like he was suffering from withdrawal effects as far as she could tell. He looked content enough, but for all she knew he might have the Prince's blood stashed away for whenever he needed it. She couldn't help but wonder how many ghouls LaCroix actually had.

"You uhm…you drink his blood often then…?" she asked clumsily.

"How's bout you go head and get washed up," he responded back with a bit of laughter, "I'll be down the hall waitin' to answer all your questions. We can eat, talk, laugh, whatever ya want."

"Oh…ya, okay." Mercurio nodded and left her room, closing the door behind him. Now alone, Valeska swung her feet over the side of the bed. The thing was so high off the ground that she had to make a tiny hop down to the floor, and it wasn't like she was terribly short either. She stretched and yawned before striding over to the closet. Katrina said her clothes would be there for her.

Opening the doors she was instead stunned to see a new full blown wardrobe of fashionable items of all colors staring back at her. There were elegant dresses, several different types of skirts, tailored suits, ankle length coats of rich materials, low cut flowing tops, and a large assortment of heels (half of which she would be lucky if she could walk in). Where had all this stuff come from? It sure as hell didn't belong to her. Maybe it was Katrina's clothing. Upon closer inspection though, that theory was blown out of the water. Nearly everything was more or less Valeska's own size, and she knew the incredibly slim Katrina would be swimming in such clothing.

It wasn't that she didn't appreciate what she saw, but she did have questions concerning it. The first was how had the known her size? She hadn't outright told anyone last night. The next was that at what point had someone slipped into her room and stocked her closet? Normally she awoke to the smallest noise and it unnerved her that they had accomplished such a feat without her knowing. Finally, if all of this really was for her as she assumed it was, was she just supposed to accept it all without any feelings of discomfort? Even if her new boss was rich, she felt awkward being given so much so fast.

Deciding to speak to him later on about her uneasiness, she temporarily accepted the fact that she now had a new wardrobe. It wasn't like she had any trendy or business like attire in her own closet back home anyway, only very minor things. Her side jobs didn't require it so why should she bother to waste money trying to look like the beautiful people? Now that she would be walking the halls of the rich and powerful though, she might as well look the part.

Picking out a black pencil skirt and a white collared half sleeved blouse, she went to look in her dresser. It too was stocked full of socks, panty hose, underwear, and bras. Some of them were a bit…too provocative for her taste though making her feel even more uneasy. Did the Prince really expect her to wear a see through thong and an uncomfortable looking jeweled bra? From her brief time spent with him he didn't seem the type to be interested in such things. He had even at one point said he found intimate interactions to be a "lowly act" if she recalled correctly. Could vampires even have sex? She had her doubts seeing as how they were dead, and she personally hoped they couldn't.

Gathering up a pair of simple matching black under garments, she headed to the bathroom. Starting up the shower, she was pleased to feel the hot water come in almost immediately. The perks of being filthy rich she supposed. After stripping off her apparel (glasses included), she stepped into the water, letting it run down her body. It was a most wondrous feeling to wash off all the filth of the previous night, and the soothing heat was doing wonders for her tense muscles. She sighed happily and let her mind wander as she washed up.

Unfortunately her thoughts no matter where they started kept ending with the Prince. Most of all was the odd dream she had of him. Of all people why had she dreamt of him, and especially why had it been in an intimate way? It made sense that it had mimicked the terrifying events of last night, but she felt concerned with how content she had been in LaCroix's imaginary arms. She felt angry with this discovery and it made her want to dislike him even more.

Upon finishing her shower she shut off the valves feeling frustrated. It was only her first day to this new life, and despite the perks she had already experienced, it was obvious that she was out of her comfort zone. In just one night her world had been turned upside down, swirled around with deadly poison, and then thrown down a flight of stairs. She might as well take on a new identity, because her old self had been decimated.

As she died off and combed her unruly hair into a bun, she couldn't help but worry about her grandma. Her medical expenses were outrageous and it wasn't like the cost of general living was cheap either. There was no way she was going to get by without her granddaughter's help. For a moment she contemplated telling LaCroix of her troubles. Would it really be that bad if he knew?

Well of course it would be! Although she knew little about the Prince, she already knew she couldn't trust him. While he might choose to support her, such assistance would probably only be offered at a terrible price. Who knew what he might do when he yielded such information about her. Maybe she was just being overly paranoid, but in her mind it was better to keep their business strictly professional. He didn't need to know about her grandma, and as soon as she started making money she would find a way to secretly send it to her residence.

After dressing and putting her glasses back on, she took a look at herself in the mirror. Although she didn't feel the look of a business associate suited her, she didn't look half bad. If only her midsection weren't so pudgy. She wasn't overweight, but she didn't have the body of a model either. Before she could let her lack of confidence tear her apart, she slid on an uncomfortable pair of heels and left the guest quarters. She followed her nose more than anything since the penthouse was even larger than she remembered. Eventually the scent of bacon set her straight and she found the kitchen.

The kitchen, like every other room in the penthouse was quite roomy. The floor had large square beige tiles with white grout in-between them, and nearly every inch of the walls were covered in either light wooden cabinets or paintings. Some of the cabinets had glass panels allowing one to see the white and gold dish wear within. Like most kitchens, there was an assortment of big and small appliances, though they looked very expensive. Above the golden sink was a window looking out to downtown LA, and all around there were counters made of granite. In the middle of the kitchen was a granite counter island that had several bar stools on one side for seating while floating above was a fancy golden chandelier. Finally there was a door in the corner which she guessed lead to a pantry of some kind.

If there was one thing Valeska could appreciate about LaCroix, it was his taste in classic style. Then it hit her that he probably had an interior decorator so even that trait she couldn't admire about him. A wolf whistle drew her attention from the kitchen and she saw a smirking Mercurio seated at one of the bar stools.

"Now don't you look nice an' fancy?" Mercurio said leaning back and folding his hands behind his head.

"Oh…well thank you," Valeska replied as her face steadily started to turn red. Being a lover of books, her nose was almost always in one. Time spent socializing was kept to a minimum and because of such, she was not used to compliments which were rarely given. She bit her lip and stood awkwardly in the doorway before Mercurio started to laugh.

"A bit shy huh? Well come sit down and eat your food. It's gettin' cold." He pulled out the stool next to him and gave it a pat. Valeska complied with his order and after taking her seat, he lifted the shiny lid of the platter. There was a plate of bacon and eggs that looked quite scrumptious along with some hash browns, a biscuit, and a glass of orange juice. If only she were hungry.

"This looks really good, did you make it?" she asked initiating a conversation.

"Nah I can't cook for shit," he replied while placing the lid on the counter.

"That's fine. Now I don't have to worry about offending you if I don't eat much." She gave him a small smile which he returned. Deciding that she liked him, she picked up the biscuit and gingerly started to nibble at it. It was cold and stale, but she needed food in her stomach so she kept eating.

"Not hungry eh? Yeah me neither," Mercurio said, "As a ghoul you get used to livin' the life o' a vampire. You eat late and sleep all damn day."

"Guess that makes every other college student a ghoul then," Valeska said lightheartedly.

"Guess so," Mercurio said chuckling.

"But why are you here now then?" She asked putting her biscuit down and picking up the orange juice which she was pleased to find had no pulp. It tasted delicious and she found herself greedily gulping down the entire glass.

"Got word last night that a brand new baby ghoul was in need o' trainin'. Since you're the only one here suitin' that title, you must be Valeska. Mind if I call ya Val?"

"You can call me whatever you want, it's just a name," she said shrugging and putting her empty glass down.

"Aren't you the interestin' one…" he said crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head thoughtfully.

"I try," she replied playfully, "So anyway, this is like what? Vampires 101?" She went back to nibbling at her biscuit, but found it tasted horrible now. Instead she turned to the bacon which was a bit too crispy for her liking. She hated that she was being so fussy with her food, but she always had been a very picky eater.

"Hey whatever trips your trigger Val. I'm here to teach ya all I know and answer anything you ask."

"Anything?" She asked a bit surprised.

"Anything." He responded with a nod.

"Let's get started then!" Val said eagerly. She valued knowledge above all else in life, and in her current situation it was what she needed desperately but unfortunately lacked.

For the next several hours the pair discussed the secret world of vampires in great detail until the sun went down. No stone in Mercurio's mind was left unturned as Valeska asked question after question. The first thing they discussed was vampirism in general, and the many abilities yet few weaknesses that they all shared. Next up were the different sects that vampires usually aligned themselves with such as the monstrous Sabbat, the rebellious Anarchs, and the authoritative Camarilla whom was responsible for upholding the Masquerade (which they also went over). Finally they dissected the many unique clans that a vampire could be sired into as well as ghouls and what part they played in Kindred society.

If Mercurio had information on it then it was openly shared, and usually in an educational yet entertaining way. Since it was all so interesting to learn about, Valeska soaked up everything she was being told like a sponge. At one point they decided to take a small break and make dinner. However, seeing as how neither wanted to cook or could cook for that matter, Mercurio ordered a pepperoni pizza and some pasta from his favorite Italian restaurant. When the food arrived they devoured it like they hadn't eaten in weeks, something the both of them found comical.

Instead of returning to the discussion vampires though, they got to know one another as they ate. Mercurio told her about his time spent in New York, and she shared the time she spent growing up in Arizona which she added was ridiculously hot. He spoke of his very first job supplying weapons to a gang, and so she informed him of her first time hacking into an encrypted network. The two were really getting along wonderfully and Valeska couldn't help but think of him as a friend. Eventually they started to talk about California, though Mercurio really seemed to hate the state.

"Uh Mercurio?" she asked as she finished washing the last of their dirty dishes.

"Yeah?" he responded while he dried the clean plates.

"If you hate it here so much why not go back to New York?" she questioned curiously.

"Probably cuz you can at least drive in Cali!" he said laughing, "You actually ever try to drive in New York? Friggin' insane I tell ya." She eyed him for a moment. Was it just her or was that a really poor excuse?

"Never been there myself, but I've seen enough movies to know that walking is probably faster than driving in the big cities," she began, "But what about outside the major areas? Surely it's not too bad out there."

"Not enough business on the country side," he said shrugging. Once again she got the feeling he wasn't telling her something.

"Don't you have any friends or family back east that you miss?" she asked continuing her press for information. She saw Mercurio from her peripheral vision place his damp hand towel on the counter and look down as if he were thinking hard on something. He exhaled deeply and she had sudden realization that this was probably a very sensitive issue for him. Damn it all, she could be so stupid sometimes.

"I ran into a bit o' trouble back home…" he replied after a long moment of silence. "But c'mon, you don't really wanna hear bout that garbage do ya?"

"Not if you don't feel like sharing. It sounds really personal and I'm sorry if I pushed the issue," she apologized.

"Eh no worries, just maybe we can talk about that another time. Deal?" he asked holding his hand out.

"Deal." Smiling she took hold of his hand and shook it firmly. She was happy that his personality was so laid-back and that he wasn't one who was easily offended. It made her like him even more and for the first time since yesterday's ordeal she felt comfortable.

"Aw shit!" Mercurio exclaimed making Valeska jump.

"What, what?!" she asked worried that something was seriously wrong.

"Lost track o' the friggin' time. I was supposed to have ya back with the main man by 8 since he's gotta job for ya or somethin'. Damn it all!" Quickly he started putting away all the dishes as though a bomb might go off any moment.

"Everyone makes mistakes, I'm sure LaCroix will understand…" she said gently. It worried her that Mercurio's typical relaxed attitude had vanished almost completely.

"You better toss that thought out o' your mind real quick Val or you aren't gonna last one minute in this life," he said hurriedly while practically throwing the remaining silver wear into their respective drawers. "The boss doesn't like failure o' any kind. One slip up an' you're done."

"But something so small…" she began slowly.

"It doesn't matter!" he shouted, throwing her off guard. Valeska stared at him blankly and Mercurio sighed. "Look I'm sorry…didn't mean to yell. Just trust me on this okay kiddo?"

"Okay," she replied meekly with a nod.

"Right, let's go then," he said gesturing her to follow him.

"Wait…I uh, wanted to thank you for helping me out. I had a lot of fun and I really appreciate it." He gave her a smile and patted her on the back.

"Anytime Val. I'm sure we'll be able to do this again soon. Now c'mon." With that the two left the kitchen, shutting the lights off behind them. Valeska wasn't eager to face the pale Prince so soon, especially now that they were probably in trouble. However she really had little choice, and the sooner she got this over with the better.

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**Author's Notes:** Well did you like it? I had fun writing Mercurio's character, but I want to add that in no way will he or any other character (besides LaCroix) be romantically involved with Valeska. At most he will serve more as mentor to her and later on someone she can confide in as a friend (and vice versa). In fact since she is allied with the Prince, it is more logical for one to assume that she will probably have more enemies than friends in the end. I just felt the need to clarify that since I personally discard a story in which an OC gets with every male character in the story. With that out of the way, I unfortunately regret to announce that the chapters after this may or may not be slightly delayed since I seem to have come down with a cold so I apologize! Finally as always, if you have any ideas, compliments, critiques, or anything else you want to share just post a review. I love hearing from my readers! ^_^


	7. In the Lion's Den

**Author's Notes: **Thank you all who have stayed with me through the story so far! I want to give a very special thank you to both Sasha Naruto and MischievousEnigma for their recent reviews. This chapter deals with a bit of conflict between Valeska and LaCroix as one might derive from the chapter title. I don't want to rush into their romance too quickly, as few people in this world fall head over heels within a 24 hour time period, vampire blood or not. I want it to feel plausible. Finally, from here on out unless otherwise specified all chapters will be rated T. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Val and any other random original characters.

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**Chapter 7 In the Lion's Den **

Mercurio and Valeska moved swiftly through the halls of the penthouse, though neither one of them truly wanted to face the Prince. There was no doubt that he would be cross with their tardiness, but Valeska figured this would be the perfect opportunity to see how bad her new superior's temper really was. In no time at all the pair arrived in front of LaCroix's office. Mercurio took a deep breath, sent Valeska a reassuring look, and raised his hand to knock on the door. Right as his fist was about to make contact, they heard a pair of muffled voices from behind the closed doors. It was incredibly difficult to hear, so Valeska put her ear against the door.

"Val stop," Mercurio hissed. Valeska put her index finger to her lips and then leaned against the door again.

"Please accept my humblest apologies sir, I honestly had no idea he would have completed his task so poorly," said a female voice that Valeska recognized as Katrina's.

"Then you confess to being just as incompetent as he is," the familiar voice of LaCroix said.

"No sir that's not what I meant," Katrina clarified quickly.

"Yes, but that is the impression I'm receiving whether you like it or not." Valeska could just picture the Prince in his chair, hands folded carefully upon one another, and on his face smug satisfaction with the power he held over the woman she assumed to be his secretary.

"But I -," Katrina began.

"Enough! There is not one excuse I will accept in place of your actions in this matter," LaCroix interrupted. "As such -." He stopped halfway through his sentence and a brief moment of silence passed. Valeska wondered exactly what Katrina had screwed up on, but before she could form a theory LaCroix spoke up again. "We will discuss your punishment at a later time. For now return to your usual duties and send the two eavesdroppers in."

"Yes sir." Katrina said quietly.

"Shit he heard us," Valeska whispered to Mercurio who immediately smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"For the record I can still hear you," LaCroix declared. The door opened and Valeska stepped back, her face the Prince.

"Prince LaCroix will see you now," she said with a forced smile. Valeska just stared at her and then glanced into the room to see a livid Prince seated at his desk, his arms crossed over his chest. In this world, Valeska always believed that there were two types of fear. The first occurred when one's existence was in peril due to some outside force that could do actual harm. The second however centered more on paranoia of the unknown or anxiety of something that logically wouldn't hurt a fly.

At that exact moment Valeska wasn't entirely sure which type she was experiencing more of. On one hand real threat was present because the Prince was a dangerous man, but on the other hand she had no idea what he was capable of so it was more the fear of the unknown. All she knew for sure was that she wanted to run far, far away from the glaring man at the end of the room.

"C'mon…" Mercurio murmured as he grabbed her by the arm and pushed her inside the office. Glancing around she noticed that the towering grumpy bodyguard from the previous night was absent. She looked up expecting to see a giant hanging bat for some reason, but luckily the ceiling was clear of any winged creatures.

"You're late," LaCroix said coolly as the two shuffled in.

"I'm sorry boss," Mercurio began, "I got caught up in teachin' Val the basics." The Prince narrowed his eyes and Mercurio rubbed the back of his neck apprehensively.

"It's my fault," Valeska said stepping forward bravely. She was beyond nervous and had no idea what it was she was doing.

"Oh?" LaCroix asked raising an eyebrow.

"His watch broke and he asked that I keep an eye on the clock," she lied quickly, "I failed to take into account the amount of time it would take to wash the dishes."

"Then why is his wrist ticking?" LaCroix inquired innocently.

"Huh?"

"His watch, Miss Latimer. I can hear it -ticking-," he said placing special emphasis on the last word. Shit, his senses were that good? Silently she cursed herself at her stupidity. She had only wanted to help Mercurio out and now that idea had failed terribly.

"I appreciate the support kid, but lyin' isn't the way," Mercurio said quietly to her, "I know when to take responsibility for my actions..."

"Leave us," LaCroix commanded. Mercurio's eyebrows shot up in surprise, a feeling both him and Valeska equally shared. He wasn't going to be punished?

"Uh, yes sir!" Mercurio managed to say. He shot Valeska an expression that probably meant good luck, and quickly turned to leave.

"Oh and Mercurio?" LaCroix began.

"Yeah?"

"Your usual compensation might be behind this month." Everyone in the room knew the literal meaning to the Prince's statement except Valeska. She looked back and forth at both men trying to put two and two together. Besides money, what else would Mercurio be paid in? Wait…blood, of course. The Prince was purposely going to postpone providing his blood. She wondered for how long the delay would be, and how severe a punishment this actually was.

"Thank you sir," Mercurio politely said before leaving the two alone in the spacious office. At least he hadn't appeared too upset, but then again it was probably an act. Misbehaving in front of the Prince was bound to have unpleasant consequences.

Valeska hadn't noticed before, but she was literally sweating now due to her nerves. It wasn't like Mercurio and her were best friends, but she had felt safer when he had been there with her. Now she was completely alone with the Prince and felt as if she were a wounded zebra in the hungry lion's domain. Why hadn't she asked for any info from Mercurio on her new boss? Even the slightest scrap of history on the man would have had her feeling calmer, but now it was too late. Now she would just have to make up her own mental database on presumed concepts.

"Sit," the Prince ordered. Valeska scurried into the chair that was still seated in front of his desk from last night. His eyes drilled into hers and she knew he remained quiet to make her feel even more uncomfortable. What events in his past had made him like this? Who was he before he had been sired? In her mind she pictured two possibilities.

The first was a spoiled brat who had been handed everything he desired from his rich parents. He grew up an only child in a huge estate with dozens of servants who tended to his every need. He achieved only the best in life and not because he was intelligent or special, but because his parents would destroy anyone who opposed their prized son. After enough blackmail and backstabbing he would have caught the attention of some powerful vampire, which would have eventually allowed him to become the Prince of LA.

The second boy however, would have barely had a roof over his head and every night he would have gone to bed starving. He would be forced to grow up at a young age or perish like his siblings who hadn't been strong enough for the harsh realities of life. Perhaps he had even supported his parents who were ill from malnutrition. Eventually through enough hard work and his strong will to never give up, he would achieve what he now held.

Which boy was he though? That was the question. In his cold eyes next to the high levels of deception and ambition, there was something else. Something that had been buried deep in an attempt to disguise some form of pain or tragedy. He was over two hundred though, so that gave him plenty of time to experience both the ups and downs of life. The Prince pushed back from his desk and stood up, drawing her attention away from her thoughts. With his hands behind his back he walked over to his windows.

"Do you recognize what it means to represent someone, Miss Latimer?" he asked staring out the windows thoughtfully.

"Uhm…yeah," she answered as she began to chew her lower lip.

"Are you aware then that you now represent my corporation and more importantly, myself?" he asked again turning to look at her. She swallowed hard, obviously still nervous.

"I'm pretty sure I do…" she replied partially unsure. She averted her gaze and directed her attention to anything but the Prince. The wallpaper, the windows, the grand chandelier above her that she failed to notice last night, anything but him.

"Look at me!" he demanded. Her eyes immediately shot back to LaCroix's icy glare that sent chills down her spine, and not the good kind either. "If what you state is the truth, then I need not explain why I do NOT tolerate lying of any kind."

"I just -" she started.

"Nor do I appreciate being interrupted!" he snapped walking over and then pointing his finger at her. "You best learn some manners _ghoul_, and quickly." The way he had called her ghoul was meant to be insulting, both of them knew it. She was nothing more than an ant under his magnifying glass that at any point he could set aflame.

Saying nothing she simply nodded her head quickly, something she could see in the Prince's eyes was amusing to him. He relished in the power he held over his new minion, but perhaps this could be used to her advantage. If she played the part of the terrified and awe inspired mortal, then that was all she would be seen as. The more pathetic she was, the less he would have to suspect of her. This way, she could move more freely and he wouldn't look too heavily into her past or outside connections. With these thoughts her nervous habit of biting her lip ceased.

"Since this is only your first night I shall be lenient. Against my better judgment there will be no punishment for your actions," the pale Prince announced and she found herself breathing a sigh of relief. "That is to prove that I am not without clemency, but mark my words Miss Latimer…there is no room in my establishment for liars or eavesdroppers for that matter. Repeat any of those errors and there will be severe consequences. Do I make myself clear?"

"I understand," she said nodding again, "And I thank you for your mercy." Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

"Good. Oh, and from here on you will address me as either sir or master," he explained. Valeska resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Any thoughts of him being decent were removed from her mind for the level of arrogance he possessed was astounding.

"Yes sir," she said respectfully. There was no way she was going to call him master. One, because he didn't deserve that title, and two because she hated the word. No matter how hard someone tried, they could never be a master in something since the title implies one knows everything on the subject. Everyday new theories were being formed and sometimes in the most remote locations, so no ordinary person could possibly achieve such a label. In her mind there were no masters, only teachers who shared knowledge with eager students.

"Excellent," he said sounding pleased with her submission, "Then I have a task for you." He pointed to a manila folder on his desk and Valeska reached over cautiously to pick it up. "Everything you need to know is within."

She opened the folder, but was somewhat surprised to see only a few sheets of paper. Her eyes skimmed over the words and again she found herself taken back though this time it was because the job didn't appear to be too difficult.

"So you want me to get inside this system and just record everything?" she asked.

"That is what the paperwork states is it not?" he inquired making her feel rather stupid. How apparent that he valued his ability to make someone feel inferior.

"Well yeah…I just thought…" She went back to biting her lip instead of finishing her sentence.

"Thought what, Miss Latimer?" Prince LA questioned.

"Uh, nothing," she responded quickly, "Thank you for this opportunity sir, I won't let you down." She bowed her head respectfully, a gesture she found awkward, but knew that it was one he would appreciate.

"For your sake let us hope not," LaCroix said before sitting back down at his desk. "Waiting downstairs is transportation to return you to your apartment. So that you may complete your assignment more swiftly, the company will be providing you with a laptop."

She observed him carefully, but his serious expression revealed nothing. Was the laptop bugged? Probably. Even if it wasn't though, any history (recorded or erased) could easily be traced by the several other competent computer experts the Prince probably had working under him. Most likely she was just being overly paranoid again. Yet even if it was only for work purposes, she didn't really want to accept a high valued piece of equipment. Mentally she was reminded of her new wardrobe and felt that now more than ever this was not the time to be receiving more gifts.

"Oh, that's not necessary. I already have a computer," she said kindly, hoping that he wouldn't be offended.

"I don't recall inquiring if you had a computer," he said coolly. "I am granting you an essential tool to be used in your line of work, so be grateful."

"Okay…but I uh have a question concerning something else."

"Yes?"

"I, well…" Her mind froze up and she found it difficult to get the right words out. How hard was it to tell him that she wasn't comfortable with accepting the clothing purchased for her?

She looked down at her fumbling hands when she realized that a huge issue here also was that the underwear collection looked like it belonged to a stripper. Did he really want her in a sexual manner? This question kept popping up even though based on the evidence she had seen so far she didn't think it was the case. Still, the possibility, however unlikely, did exist.

She found her mind starting to wander to that damned dream she had of him to support that theory. The way she had felt in his arms…so relaxed, almost as if she were loved. Was it even possible for him to be so gentle like that? She felt her cheeks turn hot when her thoughts suddenly turned to the erotic. What the hell was wrong with her? Sitting right in front of her was the very man who didn't appear to have any redeeming qualities and yet here she was thinking of him in an inappropriate manner. Sure he was handsome, which she could value more now, but one crucial point remained: he was her boss.

"Is something wrong Miss Latimer?" LaCroix asked. She looked up at him, unsurprised to see that he looked aggravated.

"I want to respectfully request that I return the clothing purchased on my behalf, sir," she said trying to sound as professional as possible.

"Ah yes, that bit of trouble," he said with a sigh, "Allow me to apologize for any discomfort that situation may have brought you. My funds were moved without my permission by someone who found it crucial that you be dressed in the finest attire as to suitably blend in. A sensible decision, but one carried out improperly. Those responsible have been dealt with, and the clothing will be taken care of."

"Okay, thank you sir," she replied. For some reason, part of her felt let down that this was all just a mistake and not something more. With irritation she wondered why. Their relationship was supposed to be professional, nothing more, nothing less. It would be less confusing and all around better for her mentally as well as emotionally to not be involved with someone who was obviously a very selfish individual.

"Is that all you wanted to discuss?" the Prince asked and Valeska nodded. "Very well. When you have completed your task you may return to me for your payment. For now, good evening Miss Latimer."

"Good evening sir…" With that Valeska stood up and left, trying to act as though she weren't rushing out unnecessarily. Truthfully she wanted nothing more than to abandon this new life and return to her old one. Employment and hefty compensation be damned, she hated the irrational feelings that were developing for the Prince. She wanted to be back in school where things made sense and she was with others who were similar to her.

Oh, but who was she kidding? No matter how well she was able to become a wallflower or even have a decent social circle, she didn't belong there. Sure her friends shared some interests like gaming, but deep down inside she always felt like she was living a lie or putting on an act to blend in. When it came to college itself, she knew she was only there because she had no idea what she was doing with her life. Each day though she grew more and more frustrated with having to jump through hoops just to obtain a piece of paper that didn't even guarantee employment. She had a decent skill set that was finally going to be utilized so she might as well stop being so angsty about it. Change was never easy for anyone, but now was her chance to practice her ability to adapt to new situations that were outside of her comfort zone.

Eventually she found herself back in the guest room, and on the bed was an average sized bag. Upon investigating it, she found that within were her clothes from the previous night, the laptop LaCroix had told her about, and a charger for the notebook. Carefully she removed the laptop and inspected its outside shell. There was nothing suspicious about it, though she could tell it was a top of the line model and therefore very expensive. Deciding to look further into the matter when she got home she gently placed the computer back in the bag and added the folder of instructions from the Prince to the heap. With one last look around she gathered up the bag and headed for the elevator.

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**Author's Note:** Well how did you like it? As you probably could assume, Valeska is suffering from some conflicted emotions toward the Prince due to the fact that she ingested his blood (though of course she doesn't know why). At this point I'm still trying to decide how far I want their blood bond to go since I would rather their relationship be genuine rather than one based on obsession. More than likely it will be a combination of both, but I guess we'll just have to wait and see how things turn out! If you have anything you'd like to share I'd love to hear from you. Feedback is VERY much so appreciated so drop me a review! ^_^


	8. Home Sweet Home

**Author's Note: **Hello my friends! This chapter has not one, but two minor characters from the game that more or less have their own cameo scenes. Some characters from the game will appear often, and some of them are just there to have a more in-depth personality profile that we can assume lead them to the events of Bloodlines. I want to once again thank all my readers and reviewers for their support that keeps me going. I love ya all! :) In response to your recent review Sasha Naruto, I was wondering where you got that history on LaCroix. Was it one you made up on your own? I've looked everywhere and have found little canon history with his character, so I find myself intrigued!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing except Valeska and other original characters thrown in to play a random, but useful part.

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**Chapter 8 Home Sweet Home**

Glad to be leaving Lacroix's penthouse, Valeska entered the elevator and hit the lobby key. Shifting uncomfortably in the small area she tried to focus on the classic music playing in an attempt to ignore her phobia of elevators. There was no real reason for her problem with them, though she contributed her fear to the many nightmares of snapping elevator cables she had as a child. Logically she knew that the odds of such an event were microscopic, but that hadn't stopped her from seeking out stairs over an elevator. Besides she didn't get much exercise so she simply deemed it a healthy habit.

She had been devastated earlier though when she hadn't found a stairwell leading down in the Prince's penthouse. He probably had one somewhere, but she wasn't going to bother making herself out to be a fool in front of him again. She wondered briefly why she hadn't been anxious the previous night when she had been dragged inside the elevator. The more she thought on it the foggier the details were, though she wasn't sure if it was because she had suffered head trauma or that she was subconsciously blocking the event out. In the end she decided that it was her fear of dying that had overwhelmed her paranoia of elevators.

A soft ding sounded and needless to say Valeska was amazed to see that the lobby looked almost completely normal. She hadn't gotten the chance to see the aftermath from the attack, but if there had been any blood, gun shells, or even bullet holes in the wall, it had all been taken care of in the timespan of less than a day. Impressive, but somewhat predictable when you had as much money that she believed LaCroix had.

"S'cuse me Miss?" To her left she saw a heavily overweight, brown haired security officer approach her. He seemed the friendly sort, with kind trusting eyes, and a cheerful smile on his chubby face. However his scent was rather disgusting, like a mixture of guacamole and something sweet, though Valeska didn't want to assume donuts based on the well-known stereotype about cops. He wore a simple navy blue uniform that had a coffee stain down the front, but he walked with a healthy level of pride that practically shouted the love he held for his job.

"Yes?" she asked.

"You wouldn't happen to be Valeska Latimer would ya?" His voice sounded rather nasally, like he had a cold, even though his overall appearance suggested he did not.

"Yes, that's me." His face lit up like a Christmas tree, which she didn't think was possible since he already appeared jolly enough before.

"Well I'm the leading security officer for the receptionist desk here! You can call me Officer Chunk," he announced holding his stubby fingered hand out to her. This guy was in charge of security in the lobby? He barely seemed capable of defending a strip mall, let alone watching over someone as important as the Prince.

"Nice to meet you uhm…Chunk." She gave him a small smile and shook his meaty hand, deciding not to ask if Chunk was his real name or just a nickname. She assumed the latter, but she honestly didn't want to know.

"Alrighty then! I'm uh here to accompany you to said vehicle, so right this way ma'am." Valeska followed the officer with the pity inducing name out of the building's entrance. Waiting in front was a yellow taxicab. Even though she lived a little less than a few miles away from Venture Tower, she did appreciate LaCroix paying her cab fare to get home safe and sound.

"Thank you Officer Chunk," Valeska said as he held the car's back door open for her. She heard the cab driver snicker to himself, probably at hearing Chunk's name.

"Just doing my civil duties ma'am, you be safe now," he replied, looking like someone had just given him a trophy for an important job well done. A little odd since all he did was escort her outside and open the doors, but whatever made him happy.

"Where to?" the cab driver asked. Despite the nearby lighting his face was well hidden in the shadows and Valeska couldn't help but get a creepy vibe from him.

"Just down a few streets to the Chalfonte apartment complex," she informed. The cabbie nodded and the vehicle started up, driving at decent speed toward their destination.

Valeska gazed out the window, taking in the scenery of Downtown LA. It was so odd being back down at the bottom of Venture Tower when only moments ago she had been at its top. She looked at the tower's border which was scattered with other structures that seemed to stretch up in a poor attempt to match its opponent's grandiosity. How ironic that the comparison in building heights reflected a perfect example of how she felt in the Prince's presence. She then spotted the usual eyesore on her journey home which was the abandoned hospital. Parked right outside the barbed wire fence lining the desolate building, was a van that belonged to the Haunted LA crew.

God how she hated that pathetic excuse for a supernatural show that always made it seem like all spirits were malicious creatures who siphoned energy like leeches. She found it insulting that they preyed on the naivety of people who by each episode had further fear and superstition instilled in them where none should be. Did she believe in ghosts and other supernatural occurrences? Yes she did. Did she believe that every time she heard a strange noise or saw something out of the corner of her eye that it was some ghostly being out to get her? No, she did not.

Once she saw The Last Round, a rundown bar that harbored alcoholics and punks alike, she knew she was close to home. A few pale customers were standing outside and it was all she could do but wonder if they were vampires. Before she would have just shrugged and ignored the trouble making bikers dressed in their sleeveless leather jackets. Now however, her viewpoint on life had been drastically changed. How many nights she speculated, had she walked the streets of LA and been eyed as dinner? And how many nights had she seen or conversed with someone who was actually a vampire and not human at all? It was enough to drive one crazy with all the possibilities and she would be lucky now if she didn't think of all pale skinned people as creatures of the night.

"We're here," the cab driver announced.

"Oh, thanks," she murmured, still stuck in her thoughts. Was the cabbie a vampire? She had no idea of knowing for sure. Damn this new life was going to mess with her mind.

Steadily she exited the vehicle and looked up at the apartment complex which wasn't too terribly shabby. It looked like any ordinary multi floored building in the rundown areas of LA, with each story possessing a fire escape and the ground level having bits of graffiti scribbled here and there. After saying good night to the cab driver she took the stairs inside up to the top floor. Since her apartment was located at the highest level of the complex, she got a considerable discount. It sucked having to haul groceries up all the time, but it was only three stories. Plus, more exercise!

While in the stairwell she accidently bumped into her neighbor and fellow classmate, Heather Poe. The pretty young red head was kind, but naïve when it came to how the world worked. Almost every night the fashion design major was out partying with people she barely knew and not really focusing on school at all. Valeska often heard Heather's grandmother scolding her about the possible dangers of leading such a life, but Heather would usually have none of it. Due to their vast differences in hobbies and interests, the two students rarely conversed. In fact the only thing they really had in common was the mandatory arts and humanities class that their respective yet opposite majors required.

"Oh sorry!" Heather apologized fixing her askew black rimmed glasses. She was dressed in a skimpy yet chic, strapless purple dress that flattered her thin figure. In her hands she held a pair of skinny matching stilettos and her purse.

"No problem, I wasn't watching where I was going anyway," Valeska said with an awkward smile. "Uhm…headed off to another party?"

"Mhmm, I met this dreamy guy last night like you wouldn't believe!" Heather said excitedly before rambling on about how perfect he was. Valeska nodded here and there in an attempt to be courteous, but she didn't really care about her neighbor's seemingly fabulous social life.

"Well I'd love to keep talking, but the report my boss wanted is late and I really need to finish it," Valeska said interrupting Heather's rambling with a partial lie.

"You got a job?" Heather asked with interest. "I thought you were unemployed."

"I hit a lucky break, but the lead manager is such a hard ass," Valeska explained, throwing in an irritable sigh. She definitely wasn't lying about that, her boss _was _a hard ass.

"That sucks, but hey we missed you in class today," Heather said, "The professor moved up the project's due date…AGAIN." Heather rolled her light green eyes and Valeska only wished that her biggest life issue was making sure homework was turned in on time instead of satisfying an undead supervisor.

"I've actually decided to quit school for a little bit and focus on making some extra money. This job is supposed to be real lucrative I hear." Once again not technically a lie, even if she was being forced against her will to cancel all her classes.

"Must be if you're leaving in the middle of the semester! I hope I get as lucky as you, because finding work these days is so tough."

"Ya I know what you mean…well have fun at your party!" Valeska said cheerfully trying to end the conversation.

"Oh, okay yeah, later!" Heather exclaimed happily while waving.

Valeska watched as her neighbor trotted down the stairs and leapt off on the bottom step. The redhead was so outgoing and optimistic all the time that Valeska couldn't help but feel that the chances of her classmate being taken advantage of were high. Even so, it wasn't really her concern. Heather's life was her own and it was none of Valeska's business if she messed it up.

Valeska found her way to her front door and dug around in her bag until she found her jeans. As always her keys were located in the left back pocket, so she removed them out and opened the apartment door with more than a little difficulty since it tended to stick quite often. Walking inside she took a deep breath and sighed. There was nothing like being away for any length of time and remembering why a home is called a home.

Her apartment, which really could be called more of a studio apartment, was very small in size. It only had two rooms, the bathroom and kitchen/living area, as well as a tiny balcony outside which really had been the deciding factor in her decision to rent the place. When she had first moved here, she had been worried she would be unable to get all of her things inside. With enough maneuvering though, it turned out she could carve out a nice little niche to call her own. Although she couldn't modify certain things the way she wanted, she didn't mind the wooden floors, pale yellow walls, and cheap kitchen appliances. It made her feel like she was living in a cabin or something, and her favorite pine scented candle added to the atmosphere. She had added in a few things to display her own style, such as a mounted pair of daggers she won in the Renaissance fair and a few cult classic movie posters. They didn't really match the current décor of her studio, but she didn't much care.

Kicking off her shoes, Valeska collapsed on her sofa/pull out bed and switched on the small TV mounted on the wall across her. She really hadn't intended to watch it, but only use it for background noise while she did her work. While flipping through the stations, she stumbled across the well-known Nightly News show on channel 9. Normally she stayed away from the news since she found the constant report of crime and violence to be tiring. However she stopped short of changing it because staring right back at her was the Prince.

"Do you plan to take any precautions to prevent future attacks Mr. LaCroix?" a young male reporter asked. He held a microphone closely to the Prince's face, who surprisingly didn't appear to mind.

"Well, I have faith that this was nothing more than the attempt of a few misguided individuals whom were desperate to cash in," the Prince explained, "While the likelihood of such an incident reoccurring are unlikely, there will be modifications to both the task force and security system of Venture Tower. None of which I am at liberty to discuss I'm afraid."

"Oh I bet…" Valeska grumbled as the scene changed to the newscaster.

"Details are still being speculated on the exact reason for the vicious attack on Venture Tower late last night, but police point to the attempted theft of a painting priced at near half a million dollars. The painting was recently purchased at the charity auction meant to raise funds for homeless children," the newscaster informed. "Finally, CEO Sebastian LaCroix delivered a heartfelt apology to the families of the deceased earlier this evening, and has pledged to provide as much assistance needed to bring the fallen to rest."

Valeska changed the channel, not wanting to hear anything further about her boss. Buying paintings for charity events and promises to support those in need? Yeah right, that was just his carefully maintained public image. He was the head of a prominent company and to protect his own interests and the interests of his business, it was obvious his ability to play to a crowd of reporters had to be top notch. By the looks of it, everyone was probably eating his bullshit up like it was a tasty snack.

Upon landing on a medieval history documentary, she placed the remote down, hoping that one of her favorite topics wouldn't distract her. To most it might be considered late at night, but to her the evening was young which gave her plenty of time to get the Prince's seemingly easy task done. Removing her new computer from the bag, she powered it up and was pleased yet unsurprised to see that the Windows 7 welcome screen loaded up rather quickly. She spent the next thirty minutes or so exploring the system and looking for any possibly hidden tracking programs, but found none. Deciding she was safe, she opened up a browser and logged into her school account.

She sat there for a while, chin in hand, as her mouse cursor hovered over the drop button for her classes. This was her moment of truth. Once she hit that button there was no turning back. The years she had spent in school would be worth nothing unless she returned at some point, and all the money she had built up in loans would be coming back to bite her in the ass. She tilted her head thoughtfully when an idea struck her.

Searching earnestly she found the third party site for her college loans. Within only a small moment she had exploited a hole in the system to find herself logged in as one of the employees who monitored the financial portion of the site. She found her own student account and checked the balance which was substantial. Biting her lip she contemplated the level of risk involved with what she was about to do. Was it worth it?

Deciding it indeed was, she erased her entire account and therefore all of her outstanding charges. All records of any loans were now gone and if anyone were to look, they would think that she had either paid back the money or had simply never even been registered with their company. Either way she was safe.

Logging out of the employee's account, she switched back over to the school's website. Once again she hesitated on dropping her classes, but she knew that like a band aid the faster she got it over with, the better it would be. Taking a deep breath she shut her eyes tight and clicked her mouse. Cautiously she opened one eye and the then the next to see that on the screen were the words: Selected classes successfully dropped.

Valeska suddenly felt like might be sick or that she had been sucker punched. She couldn't locate the exact reason for her feeling so disturbed, but if she had to take a guess it would be her issue with change. Change was something many people had a hard time dealing with, and for her this wasn't just some minor alteration to her life, but instead a complete overhaul. From here on out everything was going to be different and that was something she was going to have a hard time adjusting to.

Taking another deep breath in an attempt to relax, Valeska reassured herself that her personal drama was now, more or less, over with. Reaching into the bag besides her, she found the Prince's folder which she removed to reread its contents. Was this really all he wanted her to do? It seemed almost too simple to just hack into a network and steal information. Perhaps this task would actually be much more difficult than it first appeared or maybe helpful information had been purposely removed from the dossier. She shrugged. Whether this was going to be a test of her skills or just a cake-walk to get her started, it was time for her to get down to business and find out.

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**Author's Note: **So as you have read, the two minor characters introduced were Chunk and Heather. I know that technically Chunk didn't get his job with LaCroix until after the events of Santa Monica, but I decided that he was just too loveable not to throw in. As for Heather, in the game we never really got to see her true personality because she was too busy being a blood obsessed ghoul. I decided to give her a bubbly carefree outlook on life that might have caused her to overestimate her abilities and end up in the hospital where the protagonist of Bloodlines found her. Also, if you were wondering where Gary was, don't worry! He will appear in the next chapter and even have his own chapter later from his own POV. Finally, I have decided that eventually the plotline of Bloodlines will appear and my own story will run parallel to it. Life for me as of late has been a little chaotic, but hopefully it will even out so I can get back to my writing. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and if you have anything you want to share feel free to drop a review! : ) I love hearing from my readers and it's always nice to get helpful tips on how to improve.


	9. Nefarious Nightmares

**Author's Note: **Greetings readers! Before you read this chapter, you should know that unfortunately my life has NOT evened out over the past few days. In fact, I appear to be suffering from some unknown allergic reaction. Being covered in itchy hives makes it incredibly difficult for me to write, so until I get this under control any further chapters will be delayed. I'm still going to attempt to release a chapter every 2 – 3 days as usual, but no promises. I apologize for the inconvenience! Now that that is out of the way, I do hope you continue to enjoy this story. Also, please remember to drop off any feedback that you might have.

At Sasha Naruto: Thank you again for your dedicated reviews, they are greatly appreciated! As for the last chapter, I left it up to the reader to decide if that specific taxi driver was Caine or not. When it comes to Katrina, she may play a few minor parts here and there, but I haven't decided how well of a friendship Val and Kat will have. Hope that answers your questions!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing except my own original characters.

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**Chapter 9 Nefarious Nightmares **

Nearly two weeks had passed since Valeska had first received her orders from Prince LaCroix and needless to say, she was at her wits end. The job that had at first appeared absurdly easy had turned out to be anything but a walk in the park. She had attempted every trick in the book that she knew, but nothing had worked. All the ports that most networks usually forgot about or kept open had been either closed or heavily encrypted. There were no wireless access points in the network that she could exploit, and so therefore her usual method of using an SQL injection (tricking the system to give her information) couldn't be done. The security was just too tough for her to crack. With each day that passed, it was literally taking all her willpower to prevent herself from foolishly bludgeoning into the system which would probably result in her being locked out permanently.

What was worse was that Valeska had grown almost obsessed with getting inside the database. Part of her fixation was partially due to her own pride as she didn't want to have to admit that she was a complete and utter failure at hacking. A majority of it though was because of the fear she had with what LaCroix would do if she returned empty handed. It wasn't like the punishment frightened her and for all she cared her boss could whip her until she bled. What she did care about was that if she didn't get any money, not only herself, but her grandma would be hurting bad for cash. She had yet to write to her grandma either about these issues, but Valeska just couldn't risk putting her only living relative in harm's way when she had no doubt she was being observed from afar. Luckily, despite her own rent was a week past due, her landlord had yet to complain. However that was about the only good thing she had going for her currently.

Due to her obsession though, Valeska's health had slowly started to slip as her eating patterns and sleeping schedule had been thrown off. Her eating habits were already bad enough before, but now they were just horrible. During her first few days working on the database things hadn't been too unusual, but by the second week it was clear that something was wrong. When she did actually remember to consume something, she was barely able to get much of anything down without wanting to throw it back up. Food just held little appeal and even the most scrumptious of snacks tasted bitter on her tongue. In the back of her mind she craved something sweet and specific, but she couldn't figure out what it was and nothing seemed to satisfy her.

When it came to her sleeping patterns, she was already used to staying up into the wee hours of the morning. Usually she would look up to see that it was five in the morning, and would quickly jump into bed while mentally promising to go to bed earlier the next day. Of course it never turned out to be that easy, but more or less she normally had a schedule she followed. Now that she had nowhere she had to be though, she had become a complete shut in only venturing out to purchase groceries or check her mailbox. She had a surplus of energy that she wasn't cashing in so she found herself rarely feeling drowsy. Whenever she did manage to feel tired, she often found herself lying in bed with a mind that refused to fall silent. A million and one thoughts overwhelmed her exhausted mind, and eventually she would just give up on sleeping so that she could get back to work.

On the rare occasion that she did manage to fall asleep, she suffered from violent nightmares. If it wasn't a flashback from Venture Tower with the Sabbat vampires, it was something that involved LaCroix. The dreams of the Prince varied in nature from being sexual which disturbed her greatly or his life being in danger which for some reason upset her. When she was awake it was obvious that she hated her boss, but as soon as she drifted off, her subconscious made sure to unleash its full potential.

Unfortunately her dreams had made Valeska develop a slight fear of sleeping, and because she wasn't getting much shut eye, her normally calm emotional state was a chaotic tornado of turmoil. She found herself breaking down in tears often and other times she was literally throwing whatever she could get her hands on out of frustration. She was confused, frustrated, and beyond depressed as her already shaky confidence had been shattered almost completely.

Mercurio had stopped by here and there to teach her more about vampires, but despite this she was still very lonely. At most he stayed for maybe thirty minutes which she understood as he had a heavy workload. Still, if she just had one person she could trust to be around more often then that alone would have done wonders for her mood. Instead she had turned to movies to keep her company.

Currently she was attempting to relax with one of her favorite films from the 40's: Tap Hotel. The dramatic yet humorous black and white musical stood out to her mostly because of the leading actor, Gary Golden. Gorgeous Gary as he had been called back in the day, was at the top of her favorite performers list not only because of his exceptional ability to entertain, but because he truly was a gorgeous individual. Although physical appearance didn't normally affect her too heavily, it seemed that every character he played was well-spoken and intelligent which added to her attraction to him.

Whether his role was major or minor, she possessed almost every film he had been in. Additionally many of her posters were either of his movies or of the very actor himself. She absolutely adored the man who had long since passed on, and she only wished she had been born decades ago so that she would have had the chance to meet him in person. Oh well, c'est la vie.

Valeska watched as the actors in Tap Hotel danced skillfully around the stage. It was this exact scene that had inspired her to take a dance class when she was in high school. There was nothing more inspiring as well as terrifying than the moment the curtains pulled back to reveal a cheering crowd eagerly awaiting your performance. In the end though, she believed that dancing was more of a personal hobby rather than something she would want to follow through as a career. Now when she looked at the energetic performers in the movie, she felt reassured with this decision as such a physically demanding job would not have worked out for her. Feeling sleepy for the first time in days, she leaned back and shut her eyes. With the heavenly singing voice of Gary to rock her to sleep, she soon drifted off.

As soon as she opened her eyes, Valeska knew she was dreaming. Normally when she became aware of something like this, she immediately woke up. Now however it was as if something was forcibly preventing her from doing so. Being surrounded by a thick fog she wasn't entirely sure where she was, but a sensation of dread hung all around that made her feel like she might suffocate from the pressure. Suddenly the mist vanished to reveal a small, almost claustrophobic hallway with a path of dark crimson liquid leading to a closed door.

Wondering what was behind the door, Valeska slowly made her way down the hall that seemed to stretch on to infinity in order to satisfy her curiosity. With each step she took her legs got heavier and heavier, zapping what little energy she had. Fumbling around her for support, she grasped at the shadowy walls in an attempt to push onward. By the time she got to the door though, she was literally on her hands and knees out of fatigue. Lethargically she reached up to turn the knob, but stopped short when she realized with a level of unease that more of the red fluid was steadily leaking from underneath the door.

What was this stuff? Her mind was so scrambled that she couldn't quite remember the exact word for it. Carefully she dipped her finger into the large puddle and brought it to her nose. The familiar scent of the fluid was so intense that she found herself unexpectedly sucking it off her finger entirely. All the words in the world couldn't be used to describe how delicious the mysterious ruby red liquid was. All Valeska knew was that she desperately wanted more. No, she _needed_ more. Bringing her face down to the murky pool, she greedily began to lap at it like some kind of frenzied animal. Surprisingly, the more she consumed, the more her lost energy was being restored.

As she drank, an idea crept its way into her clouded mind. This fluid had to be coming from somewhere, and if the flavor was amazing in its current form, how wondrous would it taste coming from the direct source? Excitement overcame Valeska with these newfound thoughts, and she stood to open the door. Turning the handle, the door opened ever so slowly with an eerie creak.

What lay on the other side was not what Valeska had been expecting. Lying on the floor was a severely injured Prince LaCroix, with his clothes torn almost to shreds and his face twisted in a permanent expression of agony. She also saw that some pale scaly skinned creature was holding him in its arms. Slowly the disturbing being with its tangled mess of hair and gangly limbs turned to reveal its face. She then realized with horror that this disgusting monster, was herself.

The monstrous thing before her growled lowly, baring its teeth that were dripping with what Valeska now knew to be blood. Crawling on all fours the wicked version of herself made its way to her. She was beyond terrified, but found that she was glued to the spot unable to run or even scream. Closing her eyes she tried to force herself awake, but the same feeling from before kept her from doing so.

Reopening her eyes she was shocked to see that the Prince, despite having his throat torn open, was somehow still alive. She knew then that she had to help him. There was just no way around this decision, for if she didn't save him, who would? He had no one that cared as deeply for him as she did, nor did he have anyone who would be willing to sacrifice part of themselves to save his life.

Right as the sickly beast was about to chomp down on her leg, Valeska took up a defensive stance and kicked it hard in the face. Yowling in pain, the creature flew angrily at its enemy, forcing her down to the damp ground in an effort to counter attack. A furious struggle ensued with the fiend biting and scratching at poor Valeska who was scrambling to get the upper hand. Finally by some unintended fluke, she managed to tightly pin the monster. With a difficult twist of its head, a sickening crack sounded signaling a successful break of the neck.

Breathing heavily, Valeska moved back from the lifeless creature. She didn't have time to examine the corpse out of curiosity or even contemplate the obvious symbolism behind this scene. She needed to save the Prince before it was too late. Quickly she rushed over to LaCroix, whose body was still steadily seeping blood. Kneeling besides him she saw that his eyes were closed.

"Sebastian?" she asked, shaking him gently. His eyes remained closed and he did not stir. "Oh god…Sebastian, please wake up!"

She continued to shake him, each time more roughly than the last, but no matter how hard she tried she was powerless to wake him. There was absolutely nothing she could do for the deceased Prince; she had failed. Her eyes welled with tears as she threw her arms around his bloody neck.

"I'm so, so sorry, my love," she sobbed while hugging him tightly. "Please forgive me…" Releasing her death grip on LaCroix, she ran her hair softly through his sandy blonde hair. Then to close her final farewell, she leaned in and kissed his cold pale lips.

Valeska awoke abruptly with a jolt that felt like electricity had just shot through her veins. She was drenched in sweat and her breathing was as heavy as it had been after her imaginary fight with the demonic version of herself. In her eyes were the same tears she had shed in her dream though, and in her heart was an emotion that could only be described as the most severe case of despair she had ever experienced. Bringing her knees to her chest, she quietly began to cry.

"What's happening to me?" she softly asked no one. An unexpected knock at the door made her jump. Sniffling, she stood up. "Who is it?"

"Landlord, open up," a gruff male voice responded. Oh great, an alcoholic landlord was probably the last thing she needed right now.

Rushing to her mirror to make sure she at least looked decent, she was shocked at the ghastly picture that stared back. Her glossy red eyes appeared as though they were sunken in and beneath them were bags that matched those she had only experienced during her school final's week. Her skin in general was also looked very unhealthy, probably due to either lack of food or severe exhaustion. After smoothing down her frizzy hair the best she could, Valeska went to the front door.

"Yes?" she inquired upon opening the door. There before her stood her middle-aged, overweight landlord who looked like he hadn't showered in weeks. By the smell of him, that wouldn't have been a bad theory either. He was dressed in his usual greasy white tank top, patched up blue jeans, and upon his balding scalp was a red baseball cap.

"Yer been cryin' or somethin'?" he questioned bluntly, scratching his scraggly black beard. As he spoke, his rancid breath reached her nostrils revealing that he had probably been drinking for the past few hours.

"Death in the family," Valeska lied with a weak smile. It was an attempt to elicit sympathy that probably wasn't going to work, but it was worth a try.

"Sucks," he said shrugging before coughing violently into his arm. Despite his policies against smoking, it was common knowledge that he indulged in cigarettes daily. Due to both his chain smoking and drinking habits, his beady black eyes were often bloodshot, which made him appear even more of a dirty rat.

"Did you need something sir?" she asked courteously.

"Uh yeah, yer forget what day it is Latimer?" he questioned rudely, his speech somewhat slurred.

"No, I've just been caught up with school," she responded. She knew if she had said work he would have outright asked for the cash right there and then.

"I don't care if yer've been meetin' with the president each night, I want this month's rent," he demanded while holding his hand out. Nope, even when she obviously lacked the money, he was still going to ask for it.

"Look," she began, "I have a job lined up that will have a huge payoff. Just give me some time and you'll get your money plus some."

"I don't have time to play these games with yer," he said angrily. "I want my money!"

"Well what do you want me to do about it?" she asked, unable to keep her own growing frustration out of her words. "I have absolutely nothing I can give you." Her landlord stood there for a moment, arms over his chest and his head cocked to the side. His eyes blatantly traveled up her body and stopped dead center on her chest.

"Heh, I'm sure we can come to some mutual arrangement…" he answered with a suggestive smirk. Valeska's eyes widened with astonishment at her landlord's bold proposal. Even if he weren't clearly intoxicated and lacking in moral judgment, she would never sleep with a man like him, ever.

"I'd rather live on the streets," she said with a low tone and a glare to match. His smirk vanished almost instantly.

"Guess ina few days yer'll have yer wish," he grunted. "I woul-". Not waiting to hear the rest of his sentence, she slammed the door in his face. It was a rude thing to do, but she was beyond pissed and didn't much care about the consequences. True he was just doing his job, but what had her so upset was what he had hinted at, which was both a horrible and unprofessional thing to do as a landlord.

Continuing to pound on her front door, her landlord began to demand in a heavily slurred voice that she open up. If she at any point had overlooked it before, it was now clear that he was quite drunk. Fortunately for that, Valeska knew she could breathe easy seeing as how he would probably remember next to nothing about this when he sobered up. Eventually he stopped beating up her door and after looking through the peephole, she saw the inebriated man stagger away from her apartment. Mentally she was reminded of why she tended to dislike most people as they always seemed to lack in either decent manners or intelligence. Sighing she glanced toward her television that still had the handsome Gary Golden performing one of his more favorite scenes.

"The world would be a better place if there were more people like you Gary…" she announced sadly knowing that would never happen.

"I just happen to agree with you," an unknown male voice stated aloud.

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**Author's Note: **Ok so I know in the last chapter I said Gary would be in this chapter, but technically he was. :P No, but really I just wanted to get a new chapter published to update you all with the possibility of a delay. The next chapter will most definitely have the mischievous Nosferatu, but will Val's expectations be destroyed or will she still have some respect for him? Find out in the next chapter, and remember to drop a review if you can! I shall grant you a plate of cookies and/or an odious chalice!


	10. Devestating Discovery

**Author's Note: **Well my health is still iffy, but my dedication to my readers gave me enough strength to pull together this chapter. Yes that was incredibly cheesy, I know. :P In all honesty though, I really appreciate the support from all of you. It means a lot! I'd also like to give a special thanks to aberdeenkev and again to Sasha Naruto for their reviews. The both of you are now rewarded with cookies and odious chalices aplenty. Now that prizes have been handed out, I present Chapter 10 which literally takes place right after Chapter 9. There may be more than a few grammar related issues, but hopefully no more than usual. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **While I, like many fans, would like to own some of the characters in VTMB, I do not. I only have possession over my own original characters.

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**Chapter 10 Devastating Discovery **

Glancing around, Valeska tried to find the source of the mysterious voice, but she saw no one.

"…hello?" No response. Was she going mad? She was sure she had heard someone. Concluding that she was simply exhausted and hearing things, she sat down on the sofa and switched off the movie.

"Hey I was watching that!" the same raspy voice exclaimed. Immediately Valeska stood up and began to look everywhere that someone might be hiding. Her tiny bathroom, her beautiful balcony, and even her cupboard of meager food supplies were thoroughly searched, yet once again, she found nothing. She contemplated a number of possibilities like a tape recorder, but while her assumptions were logical, they were highly implausible.

Right as she was about to attribute the voice to some newly developed psychological disorder, she remembered one of the more recent discussions she had shared with Mercurio. They had been going over in greater detail some of the powerful disciplines some clans had. In this case, it was quite probable that there was a vampire in her apartment using Obfuscate, or the ability to turn invisible and sometimes even cast illusions upon others. If only she could remember which of the clans possessed that talent. Was it the Tremere? No…they were the secretive blood mages. Maybe it was the rebellious Brujah, but she was pretty sure their disciplines focused on super speed and strength. Why for the life of her, couldn't she remember?

"Ain't it infuriating to have your mind stop working when you need it the most?" the intuitive voice teased.

"Who are you?" she demanded with as much courage as she could muster. She would be fooling herself if she tried to pretend she wasn't anxious. Her nerves were already shot from lack of sleep and her previous confrontation with her landlord, but now on top of all that she had to contend with this mysterious vampire whose motives were unknown.

"Can't you recognize who I am by my _beautiful_ voice?" the person purred. It sounded like he was close to her, but she couldn't be sure. He was everywhere, and then he wasn't.

"No," she responded flatly while crossing her arms over her chest protectively. There was a short moment of silence before the person spoke up again.

"Why I'm you of course!" the creepy voice exclaimed gleefully. "Or hadn't you realized that your obsession has driven you to madness?" Madness...? Of course! The psychotic Malkavians who suffered from debilitating yet insightful delusions were known for having the Obfuscate discipline, and this guy seemed like a textbook lunatic.

"I bet you'd know all about madness wouldn't you, Malk?" she said with a self-assured smirk. Chilling laughter ripped through the air, replacing Valeska's new found confidence with intimidated unease. She wondered if he might attack her, but then again if that had been his goal all along he probably would have already done it. Perhaps he preferred to play with his food before devouring it.

"Malkavian?" the menacing voice laughed, "Oh no, no, no! But if you're planning to become a minion of the undead army someday, I'd petition to join them before anyone else."

"Why do you say that?" she asked while trying to reformulate her assumptions. The sooner she had a solid foundation of ideas on this mischievous vampire, the more prepared she would be in predicting his moves and acting accordingly. Additionally she needed to figure out what sect he belonged to so she knew what to expect in that area. If he was from the Sabbat it was likely she had been tracked down for revenge of some kind, and if he was from the Camarilla it was probably because she was being checked up on by the Prince.

"Your psyche is as cracked as the mask you wear on your frightened face, doll," the man responded with a snort. Doll? Why was he calling her a doll? The name insulted her slightly as she had few if any features that could warrant such a title. Her complexion was anything but perfect, and her head was anything but empty.

"I know you're using Obfuscate, so just come out already," she ordered with more than a bit of irritation. Her mind was drawing blanks when it came to the vampire clans, so whoever he was she wasn't going to figure it out until she got a good look at him.

"Already way ahead of you…" the voice replied slyly. Sounding as if he were right behind her, Valeska whirled around only to have her jaw drop in the process.

Seated on the sofa with his legs crossed, was without a doubt the best example of what clan Nosferatu had to offer. The vampire's sunken in elongated face reflected that of a bat with attentive golden eyes, large misshapen pointy ears, and a devilish grin full of spikey yellowing teeth. His pale grey skin looked scaly like it might be rotting, and the previously disguised odor emanating from him reeked of filth. Despite his twisted features though, he was dressed in a fine tuxedo complete with a bow tie that almost seemed to mock his overall physical appearance.

"W-who are you?" Valeska stammered while trying to recall what she had learned on the Nosferatu.

"I'll give you a hint, doll," he said chuckling and then gesturing her to turn around with a twirl of his clawed finger. Valeska did as she was told, but she saw nothing besides the television set, her crowded book shelf, and a few of her old vintage movie posters.

"Erm…what am I looking for now?" she asked feeling foolish while at the same time nervous that he might sneak up behind her.

"For someone who's supposed to be ever so clever, you sure are clueless aren't you?" the Nosferatu ridiculed.

Biting back a witty response that might elicit an attack from the unknown vampire, she turned her attention to the book shelf. She knew he thought himself important enough that it be obvious for her to figure out his name, so maybe he was some famous personage from centuries past.

"So close and yet so far…" the vampire jeered.

"Well if it's not my books then wha -". Valeska stopped in the middle of her sentence. It couldn't possibly be him…could it? Quickly she scanned her favorite poster of Gary Golden and then looked back at the Nosferatu to compare the two. Although there was an obvious difference between the two, similar facial features remained.

"…Gary Golden..?" she asked with wide eyes, not entirely sure if she was correct in her deduction.

"The one and only!" her role model proclaimed rising abruptly from the sofa to take a dramatic bow.

Valeska's mouth opened and closed like a fish as she tried to put her jumbled thoughts back in order. While she didn't really want to believe that this disfigured Nosferatu was the man she loved daydreaming about, she was still jumping up and down inside with excitement. If this guy was telling the truth, then here standing in front of her was her favorite actor of all time. Who cares if earlier he had addressed her rudely or had hit her with an array of insults? This was _the _Gary Golden!

"Oh my…this is truly an honor Mr. Golden!" she blurted out excitedly while stepping forward and holding her hand out for him to shake it. For a split moment upon his face was an expression of surprise, but it was soon replaced with a grin. Striding over he took up her hand with his own and brought it gently to his cracked lips.

"The honor is all mine," Gary said after kissing her hand, "It's not every day I get to meet a fan, let alone one who is able to overlook my appearance." An uneasy laugh tumbled from Valeska's mouth. Even though he was displaying a sudden change in attitude toward that of a gentleman, she was still intimidated by him. The last thing she was going to do was be honest in the fact that she had been utterly terrified at her first sight of him.

"I'm not even sure how to continue the conversation," Valeska confessed, still partially trapped in her star struck haze. "Would you like something to drink? I have uhm…water and… Well I have water!" Her one chance to meet Gary Golden and she was already making a fool of herself.

"I think I'll decline doll, but I appreciate the offer. I've gotten used to my fellow Kindred demanding to know why I've dragged my smelly carcass up from the sewers, rather than display a decent set of manners," the grotesque vampire told his admirer. Surprisingly, Gary's voice was without any hint of sadness that normally would be present in an individual who detested their physical exterior or at the very least lived in an environment as awful as the sewers. It was like everything he spoke of was a joke in of itself.

"Well it's not that I'm not grateful for this visit, because I am," Valeska said, "But I do find myself curious as to why someone as remarkable as you is here to see me."

"Such a coy little fox you are, Latimer…" he cooed.

"How do you know my name?" she inquired. She may still have been in la-la land, but she knew when to come back down to reality.

"Oh I know everything there is to know about you, Valeska," Gary responded before strutting back off to her sofa. He leaned back against the cushions as a content smile crept onto his face. "In fact, I probably know more about you than you do about you! But that's not important right now. After all, you're probably still wondering why I'm here."

"That I am," Valeska stated rubbing her arm awkwardly. Knowledge about the Nosferatu clan had slowly been trickling back into her head, and she knew that these vampires were renowned for their ability to seek out information. The fact that he knew so much about her was both unnerving and somehow flattering, but not entirely surprising.

"Well," he began, crossing his legs again, "It just so happens that the little database you've been trying to get into belongs to my boy, Mitnick. He's a great kid, but as of late your hysterical hacking has distracted him from his secret agent duties."

"Oh, I'm sorry... I didn't know it belonged to the Nosferatu," she apologized, averting her eyes out of shame.

"Of course not!" Gary hooted, "Princey didn't tell you about the itty bitty details now did he?"

"No he didn't," she answered, biting her lip, "He just handed me a folder telling me to get inside the network and record everything I found. But why would he set me against the Nosferatu?"

"Oh it's nothing personal, doll. Nosferatu databases are the hardest nuts out there to crack, and tech loving blood suckers everywhere are always looking to prove their mettle against us," the Nosferatu vampire explained, "Either Princey is testing your abilities or he's toying with you to see how long you last before giving up."

"I thought that might be the case, but I had no way of being sure," she admitted. "I guess you're here to stop me then?"

"Not at all, I'm actually here to help you believe it or not," the ex-actor informed her.

"Why?" Valeska asked. Although it wasn't every day she got to meet a deceased celebrity, let alone her favorite deceased celebrity, she wasn't going to just throw her suspicions away.

"So paranoid! And you wondered why I said the lunatics were perfect for you," the playful vampire teased in a sing-songy voice.

"I just want to make sure I'm not getting myself into anything I can't handle," Valeska quickly justified while shrugging off his insult. Yes she was paranoid, but sometimes being overly cautious paid off.

"Fair enough, doll," her role model acknowledged with a nod. "Now then, what would I possibly want from the pompous Prince's ghoul I wonder?" As he spoke, he tapped his cheek with his long index finger while eagerly awaiting her response.

"Information," she replied after a brief moment of silence. In her mind it was the only thing that really made sense.

"Glad to see you're not without hope," Gary said with a cluck of his tongue, "You just happen to be in a position where you can get close to that Napoleon wannabe."

"What makes you think I would betray LaCroix?" she questioned. It wasn't like her loyalties were written in blood, but deep within her was a tiny voice that whispered of the conflict she had with doing such a devious act.

"Because you, like the rest of the world, needs that little ole thing called money. Kind words and smiles ain't going to get that drunken landlord off your back doll, and if you don't finish his royal highness's job I doubt he's going to be very generous."

Valeska simply nodded, knowing he was right. She needed money not only for herself, but for her grandma that Gary probably already knew all about. Without it she was destined to wind up in a homeless shelter while her grandma would likely walk an even darker path. Even though she knew she would be treading in dangerous territory, it had to be done.

"Alright, how will this work then?" she enquired curiously.

"It's simple. You find out anything interesting and you let me know via the email address I've already sent to you," Gary explained with delight. "In return my family of misfits and I shall be willing to trade bits of information and assistance of equal or lesser value. You won't find a better deal anywhere else, doll." After his last sentence, he sent her a wink.

"Done," Valeska agreed quickly, not really caring about the fine print involved with this deal. She would always have more time later to communicate with Gary about the details. Right now she needed to get this report finished so that she could get paid. "But I want to make one revision."

"And what's that?" the Nosferatu asked with interest.

"I'd like your autograph," she replied shyly with a weak smile. He may not have been all she had imagined him to be, and in fact he was a bit of a jerk. One crucial fact remained though and that was that she still held a high level of respect for the man she would always consider her hero.

"Oh it's a deal!" the pale vampire said after cackling like a witch. With that he stood up, pulled an old pen out of his pocket, and signed her Pirate Town poster. "Ahh…this was one of my best roles I think."

"I think so too," Valeska agreed, happy to have such a priceless gem hanging upon her wall.

"Well I'd love to stick around all night and talk about my glory days, but I've further mischief I've yet to play a part in," Gary said waving his hand, "Do remember to take care in Princey's presence, doll. You'll need all the luck you can get your tiny hands on when it comes to that egomaniac."

"What do you mean?" Valeska asked wondering what he meant. She was already well aware that LaCroix was an arrogant prick as well as one who possessed a horrid temper, but she got the feeling Gary was alluding to something else.

"You'll find out soon enough I'm sure…" he answered in a low, secretive tone.

Within a blink of an eye, Gary vanished into a cloud of mist that prevented Valeska from requesting further information for a second time. "Nighty night, Valeska." His final farewell had been whispered into her ear, causing her to almost jump out of her skin with surprise. He sure was talented at moving quickly and quietly.

Without a sound, her front door opened and closed leaving Valeska alone in her studio apartment. Oddly enough, she found herself feeling happy for the first time in weeks. Not only had she gotten the chance to meet her idol, she now had a sure way of completing any future technological tasks given to her by the Prince. In the back of her mind though she couldn't help but feel hurt that LaCroix had lied to her. It wasn't like it was a huge surprise based on his personality, but he had still withheld key information that might have gotten her into a lot of trouble.

Well, no, she may not have trusted her boss, but she knew he wasn't an idiot either. If he had wanted her dead, he would have let her wounds run their course two weeks ago to allow her to bleed to death. Although this night could have turned out a lot worse, it hadn't. That meant that more or less, LaCroix had enough confidence in Valeska that she could handle any confrontation with the Nosferatu.

Deciding that it was too late to do any work, Valeska yawned and went to her bedroom. She was still very exhausted, but she knew enough that she wasn't going to put together a professional looking report without a good night's rest. The sun would be up in a few hours anyway, so even if she did finish her task, the Prince would probably be in a deep slumber. It would be incredibly improper for her to just drop off her file, so LaCroix was just going to have to wait. Besides, how much difference was one night really going to make?

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**Author's Note: **Writing for Gary is so fun, and I really do adore his character. The first time I played VTMB I remember being both fascinated and unnerved by him. I decided that he would call Valeska, "doll" rather than "boss" since I wasn't entirely sure if that title was one he used on everyone or just the protagonist of Bloodlines. Additionally, people from the early 20th century had a number of slang words for women like doll, dame, etc. As always I do hope you enjoyed this chapter, and hopefully the next one (which will be from Gary's POV) won't be delayed. If you have any ideas, characters you'd like to see, compliments, helpful criticism, or anything else you'd like to share please don't hesitate. I promise I won't bite! :)


	11. Slinking Through the Sewers

**Author's Note: **Greetings yet again readers! This chapter takes place from Gary's point of view so it's a bit different from the other chapters. More than a few hints are dropped on the secret behind Valeska's blood, but they're very subtle and won't expose too much. I'd much rather lure my readers in rather than just reveal everything in one chapter. While writing this chapter I got stuck in the loop of staring at a few sentences for long periods of time, so I apologize if it reads a little odd. Without further ado here's Chapter 11, enjoy!

**Special Thanks: **I want to convey my gratitude to both Sasha Naruto and Sof for their reviews on the last chapter. As always feedback of any kind is very much so appreciated! I know that I always say this, but all of you, readers and reviewers alike, inspire me to keep writing. Much love to you all and thank you yet again! ^_^

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing except my original characters.

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**Chapter 11 Slinking Through the Sewers**

If LA's Nosferatu Primogen could have gotten away with it, he would have gladly stripped away the illusions he used to hide himself from the public. How entertaining it would be to treat the streets of California like a runway, with himself strutting proudly down them and waving enthusiastically. Looks of disgust and horror alike would befall him along with more than a few screams. The best part of it all though, would be the moment of realization when his audience came to know that the monsters they spent their childhood years trying to ignore were all too real. A chance like that to be famous one last time while terrifying all the "pretty people" made him positively giddy.

Unfortunately for Gary Golden, such a dream (however perfect it may be) was one that would never come true. No matter who he aligned himself with whether it was the uptight Camarilla, the brain dead Sabbat, the rebellious Anarchs, or even his own talented self, he knew enough not to expose himself to humans. Punishment for breaking the Masquerade was not what prevented him from doing so, and even if the Camarilla wanted to hunt him down it was doubtful they would move against him. Within his vast haven that stretched for miles under the utopias of the surface was not only a deadly labyrinth, but an unseen army that was loyal only to him. All of the above combined with his own skillset, made him practically invincible as well as someone that you didn't want as an enemy.

Despite everything he had going for him though, it was common sense that stopped him from having his fun with the mortals. Any problems that might arise from it just weren't worth the risk. Due to this, he was forced to stick to the shadows when he did venture forth from the sewers, but it wasn't like it was too bad. There was something appealing about prowling some of the darkest places of the world that not even man knew existed. Then there was that special feeling he got when he stared someone down just out of their view. The hairs on their necks would rise, followed by nervous glances around, and always on their faces were unspoken fears that rose from some form of inner intuition. How he loved his ability to inspire terror in another without ever having to reveal himself.

Pulling back the man cover for the sewer entrance just outside the Chalfonte apartment complex, Gary hesitated. If the sun wasn't due to be up soon, he would have gone back inside to terrorize the landlord. He had observed him from a distance for some time while waiting for the perfect chance to slip into Valeska's studio apartment unseen. The man was a bully who enjoyed harassing mostly women for his own satisfaction. Normally he wasn't too picky about the kine he chose for food or entertainment, but this guy made it seem like the universe was practically begging Gary to give him a healthy dose of humility. Oh well.

Sliding down the ladder, Gary crept his way through the sewers that echoed with each step he took in its dirty waters. Down here he never had to worry about being burned by the sun, nor did he need have concern from being discovered for what he was. The only humans who dared come down here were either drunken bums or criminals on the run from the law. If he ran into either of the two, it was likely that the former wouldn't remember anything the next day anyway and that the latter would be too busy trying to hide themselves to even notice the creeping monster behind them. Either way, from here on out he was safe to move freely.

As he navigated through the sewers which he knew like the back of his scaly hand, he mentally went over all the loose ends he still had to tie up. There weren't very many, but it was a good idea as an information broker to keep in mind everything that still needed to be done. Right at the moment he was thinking about the deal he had made with Valeska.

The young woman was one he found to be rather fascinating, and not for the same reasons he knew the Prince had. Even after he had done all his research on Valeska, she had still managed to surprise him. Her admiration for the actor he once was alone was surprising, since he had assumed that any awareness of his previous life belonged only to the older generations. However, what had really thrown him for a loop was the fact that she held little to no discontent toward him when she discovered that her idol was now one of the hideous Nosferatu. Ok, so he wasn't that repulsive compared to some of the others of his kind (Imalia the rotting queen for instance), but still. If the situation had been different she might have even started flirting with him, and that was something he had been having a hard time wrapping his mind around.

While the idea of some twisted relationship with the ghoul was both amusing and enticing to him, he knew exactly what she was and that was cause enough to avoid getting too close to her. He was not a superstitious person and he knew there was no actual danger involved with Valeska. The Camarilla on the other hand, once they found out exactly who and what they were dealing with, there would be a lot of drama involved that he'd rather not be right in the middle of. Besides, she wasn't really his type and he was more than content with sitting on the sidelines and observing the situation as it developed. Sooner or later it was all bound to come crashing down, so he had to be sure to leave his schedule open for any info seeking vampires.

Having the ability to get any kind of information at any point in time, was something he especially adored about his undead existence. However, if someone had asked him how he had felt about being in the Nosferatu clan almost 60 years ago, he probably would have tried to rip their face off. Like most Nosferatu fledglings, his first reaction to the monster that had stared back at him in his favorite golden mirror could only be described as devastation. Then finding out that he had to move down to the sewers and abandon his life on top of all that? Oh yeah, he had been pissed. It had taken some time, but after a few years he had discovered that his new life, while cruelly ironic, was actually quite enjoyable.

For example, he was one of the few people who could get someone as reserved as LaCroix to be only a few steps above begging. He was still treasuring that desperate look on dear ole Princey's face when he had revealed the report on Valeska over two weeks ago. Such a classic! The best part of that was that the report was incomplete, though it hadn't been by his choice of course. Compared to many of the other figureheads in the Camarilla, he was to some degree a trustworthy person who rarely if ever went back on a deal. Sometimes he was known to "revise" a deal or go with a higher bidder who wasn't necessarily aligned with the Camarilla, but that rarely happened as he had a reputation to keep.

In this case though, the reason the report had been missing key details was because Gary had done quite a bit of further snooping after the fact. As soon as he heard about the new ghoul, he knew he had to get in contact with her only so that he could convince her to spy on the Prince. So that he was ahead of the game, he had to get as much knowledge on her as possible going through with a meeting. Although he had been pretty confident that the report he had given LaCroix would be enough to have the high ground, he had a sneaking suspicion in the back of his mind that there was something important missing. Not surprisingly, it had turned out that his intuitive assumption had been correct.

After some intense digging around, he eventually stumbled upon a shocking discovery relating to her parents. Her mother hadn't been important, but her father…now that was interesting. In the right hands, information like that could destroy the ex-college student who probably didn't even have a clue about what she was. In fact, he was probably the only one who knew about her not-so-little secret. Within time the others would figure it out, but he wasn't going to come right out and tell anyone. As far as they knew, such knowledge was as obscure as obscurity could be, so no one would blame him if he feigned ignorance about it existing. Besides, he needed to milk the young woman for as long as he could before the Prince found out about her origins.

How long would it even take before anyone stumbled on that discovery? In all honesty if anyone was going to put two and two together, it would more than likely be the Tremere. However there weren't many of the creepy mages left in California, let alone anywhere due to the level of caution they had with sharing their secrets. They were about as picky as the Ventrue with whom they sired combined with the paranoia that the shady Giovanni possessed. Either way it would be awhile before anyone found out, so he had more than enough time still left to spy on the Napoleon wannabe.

The only thing he wished was that he could be there when LaCroix found out about his ghoul. Gary couldn't stop the abrupt laughter that tumbled from his mouth, for in his mind he imagined the vindictive little Ventrue on his hands and knees trying to force up any blood he might have recently drank from his pet. He found the idea hilarious because knowing how the Camarilla usually reacted to events of similar nature, that's exactly how the situation would play out.

In a little under an hour, the ex-actor arrived in his underground lair that lay right beneath Hollywood. When he had been breathing he had ruled those glamorous streets with his fame, but times had changed. Isaac Abrams may have held authority over the surface as an Anarch baron, but Gary was still the true king of Hollywood and everyone knew it. Proving this point would be easy as pie, for their track record had always been with that vain Toreador asking the Nosferatu for a favor, and never vice versa. If Gary wanted something, he got it, and if someone wanted something, he had it.

The sound of high pitched angry screaming could suddenly be heard through his normally whisper filled caverns. Additionally the litter filled halls were abnormally crowded with other Nosferatu vampires that usually would have been slumbering at this time of day. Instead it seemed like every vampire in the warrens was peering around the corner to get a look at whatever drama was occurring. Quickly he pushed past his fellow brethren in order to get to the source of the commotion. After turning the corner he had just enough time to barely dodge a shoe of all things that had been thrown in his direction.

"SON OF A BITCH!" he heard the all too familiar whiney voice of his childe, Imalia, scream. "GET YOUR UGLY ASS BACK HERE!"

Whooshing past Gary at what seemed the speed of light was his other childe, Mitnick, who appeared completely and utterly terrified. Hot on his heels was the vicious "Cleopatra" who looked like the wicked witch riding on the wind of her poorly sewn together skirt. Violently she proceeded to pitch her remaining shoe at her frightened "brother," but luckily the computer whiz managed to lock his door before Imalia could get her sharp claws on him.

"Open up this damn door!" she screeched while pounding feverishly at his door.

"Uh-uh! You think I'm stupid sis?" Mitnick replied in his nasally voice which was slightly muffled. Ahh, even when the two of them were trying to slaughter one another, Mitnick still referred to Imalia as his sister. They were far from blood related (unless sharing the same sire counts), and what was worse was that Imalia absolutely hated the nickname. Still, it was better than outright calling her a bitch, even if it did suit her.

"I'm not your fucking sister! Now you take back what you said or I swear!" Imalia ordered angrily with clenched fists.

"You swear what?" Mitnick asked mockingly, a statement he normally wouldn't be so confident in saying face to face. Imalia's yellow, marble like eyes practically exploded out of her skull with fury.

"I'LL RIP OUT YOUR FUCKING SPINE!" she screamed furiously. She was too busy trying to destroy Mitnick's door with her fists that she had barely noticed her sire standing behind her with his arms crossed. This wasn't what Gary had wanted to come home to.

"What did he do this time?" Gary asked sarcastically, "Steal your panties to sell on eBay?" Imalia spun around, a look of shock on her skeletal face.

"Oh uh…hey Gary," she greeted in her gruff voice. She looked as though she were a little kid who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Your nuclear warhead almost hit me," Gary Golden informed his childe, holding up her foul smelling stiletto shoe. "You want to explain to me why you're trying to murder brother dear?"

"For the last time Gary…" the rotting queen responded through gritted teeth, "He is NOT my brother! No brother of mine would dare say in my presence that Tawni Sessions is hotter than me!"

Gary couldn't stop from rolling his eyes. So that was what this nonsense was about? Imalia's hatred for that girl had only just surpassed the hatred Gary himself had possessed with his "daughter" before he had sired her. When she had been alive she was conceited, selfish, and drop dead gorgeous, which as anyone knew was a dangerous combination to have in the entertainment industry. If she had been on the outskirts of society she probably would have escaped his embrace, but like many famous individuals, her desire to always be the center of attention quickly attracted the Nosferatu.

"Well she is," Mitnick spoke up, "Have you looked in a mirror lately? You're not exactly model material, sis."

"Shut up!" she barked at the computer nerd, with a kick to his wooden door.

"Stop it, both of you!" Gary ordered with an intimidating and commanding presence. It wasn't often he raised his voice, but when he did, everyone knew he was serious. "Imalia, you're ugly as sin. Now get over yourself."

Despite her anger, Imalia looked quite hurt as she nodded and sulked back to her room. Most previously famous Nosferatu vampires usually went through a series of painful phrases that occurred after the shattering of their self-image. The first was heart wrenching despair, followed by spiteful anger, and eventually at some point, acceptance with who they were and discovered potential for what they could be. It was safe to say that despite the occasional nostalgia for his golden days, Gary was in the final stage of his transformation. He had come to terms with what he was and was decently content with who he had become.

Imalia on the other hand seemed to be stuck somewhere between the first two stages. She tried to act like a cold hearted bitch, but every once in a while a bit of sadness came creeping up to cancel out her anger. At some point in his own life he might have felt sympathy toward his childe, but that was impossible now. She had lived the good life at the top of the world, but instead of treating her fans with respect, she had abused her privileges and crushed them under her designer heels. Now she was literally beneath even the lowliest of humans, and her exterior matched her true personality. It was both cruel irony and well-deserved justice all rolled into one ugly package.

"Now then Mitnick," Gary said addressing his other childe, "As hilarious as it is to poke fun at everyone's favorite Cleopatra, don't you have work that needs finishing?"

"Yeah, sorry Gary," Mitnick apologized, opening his door slowly incase Imalia was still there. Seeing that she was not he stepped out of his room, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Did you uh…talk to that annoying bug up on the surface?"

"The ghoul has agreed to the terms," he answered, not wanting to reveal too much in front of the others just yet.

"Awesome, thanks. I'll get right back to repairing the network," the computer genius said gratefully. For the last week or so, Valeska's attempts at getting inside the Nosferatu network had gotten more crafty. Even though she had been frequently unsuccessful in these attempts, it had gotten bad enough that he needed Mitnick to monitor her almost constantly. Now that she had been taken care of, he could let one of his best agents get back to his usual duties.

"Good boy," Gary teased, while playfully patting his childe's bald head. He really was a good kid, and as far as he knew, becoming a vampire had been an improvement to Mitnick's life.

Before his heart had stopped beating, he knew that Mitnick had been living from paycheck to paycheck in a crappy apartment with a job that refused to see his potential. Instead of being taken seriously, the poor kid had been stuck doing meaningless tasks that never challenged him. Due to this though, he had been left with tons of free time that he used to improve his hacking abilities. Whether he had been aware or not, Mitnick had caught the Nosferatu's attention after his fiasco with the government. After dropping a hint or two about the infamous network, Gary was surprised to see that it had only taken Mitnick two months to get inside. His course of action on what to do after that was an obvious one.

Turning around to head to his own room, Gary stopped when he saw the same group of Nosferatu from before still spying on situation. He couldn't really blame them; it was in their nature to always be on the lookout for gossip.

"As for the rest of you, the party is over," Gary announced, "No juicy grapes to be picked on the vine today."

One by one each vampire either vanished from thin air or left the area murmuring to one another with shared looks of disappointment. The warrens were usually a pretty quiet place and it often lacked in the normal drama that the surface had. One might even say it was a peaceful environment to raise the kids minus the rats, smelly garbage, and boiling lake of "red water". So when something melodramatic like this happened, it wasn't unusual if everyone jumped on it as if it were an abnormally large rat. Both were not only incredibly rare and juicy, but just as unlikely to find its way down to the Nosferatu warrens.

Heading to his quarters, he spotted a rat scurrying along the dark hallways. It paused for a minute to sniff at a molding sofa and Gary watched it with mild interest. If he were of the Gangrel clan he might have clasped his hands together in joy at the cuteness of its little pink nose and scaly long tail, but he was not. Without a second thought he snatched up the squeaking creature and sank his teeth into its neck. It had been a few hours since he had last fed, and the blood that streamed down his throat was incredibly sweet. Unfortunately, rats usually contained very little blood, and so Gary soon found that he was sucking on nothing more than a furry corpse.

Tossing the rat lazily over his shoulder, Gary continued onward making sure to keep an eye out for any other tasty snacks. After a short walk he arrived in his quaint room and found that waiting on his desk were two very pleasant sights. The first was yet another rat, which he grabbed up immediately in order to tear through its fur and neck muscles with his teeth. While he drained the rat's blood into one of his golden goblets, he sat down and picked up the second item which was a fancy envelope. Scribbled on the front was the extravagant signature of the Malkavian Primogen, Dr. Aleister Grout.

Curiously he opened the envelope to find a short letter inside. Scanning through the message his brow shot up in surprise. If he was reading this correctly, he of all people was being invited to some fancy dinner party/presentation. He actually had to reread the letter twice to make sure it wasn't a joke, but it appeared to be genuine. The first time he had met Dr. Grout, he actually seemed pretty tame for a Malkavian. If he was serious about inviting a Nosferatu to mingle with the other high and mighty guests though, then it was clear that the good doctor had more than a few screws loose in that noggin of his.

Picking up his goblet with his one hand, Gary leaned back in his chair, placing his other hand behind his head and his feet up on his desk. After taking a greedy swig of blood, he felt his lips curl into a devious smile. In his mind he could already see all the trouble he was going to get up to at this future party. He would be sure to wear his best tux and maybe even acquire some makeup to even out his complexion. It wouldn't keep the other guests (especially the Toreadors) from being disgusted by his presence, but their reactions would be hysterical none the less. Whether this was some legitimate mistake, a nasty joke, or a sincere invitation, he was going to give it his all to make sure that this party would be a blast!

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**Author's Note:** So how was it? Writing from a different view point can be difficult, but hopefully I was able to capture a decent picture of the life and times of the fearsome Nosferatu clan, as well as a better look into that gorgeous Gary. :P I know the hints were subtle and probably frustrating, but any idea on what Valeska might be? It's not a common thing to appear in the World of Darkness, but it's one that will play in rather well with the plotline….hopefully. I promise however that it is not something that will turn Valeska into some godlike figure capable of tackling any issue. She'll still be the same character that has to face the everyday trials and failures of life that comes with being a ghoul. I also want to add that coming up here soon will be more signs of a blossoming relationship between LaCroix and Valeska, so stay tuned! If you've got ideas, questions, compliments, criticisms, corrections, or anything else you'd like to share, please drop a review!


	12. Mortifying Mistake

**Author's Note: **First, let me apologize for the delay of this chapter. I know a few of you may have grown accustomed to me releasing a chapter every few days, but my college classes just started only a few days ago. Normally when it comes to school, I wouldn't have any late start courses what so ever. However, at the beginning of the semester I was so physically ill that I couldn't eat or walk, let alone leave the house for school. Eventually I wound up in the hospital and stayed there for over a week to have surgery to take out my gallbladder. I'm fine now, but due to those health issues I was forced to sign up for late start classes. So here I am, scrambling to get 16+ weeks of school crammed into 6 – 8 weeks. Needless to say, most chapters from here on out will probably be delayed so I am very sorry! With that out of the way, I hope you continue to enjoy Valeska's story and drop off any feedback should you feel the need!

**Special Thanks: **Thank you very much to Sof, Sasha Naruto, and Padme4000 for their recent reviews. I'm delighted to hear that I'm able to effectively portray each character and that Valeska in particular continues to remain interesting. In respect to the few of you who took a guess at Valeska's true nature, I cannot out right tell you whether you were correct or not. However, you will receive a PM informing you if you're hot or cold in your assumptions. Thanks again guys and gals! =)

**Disclaimer: ***Whilst holding a broom in one hand, and throwing the other up in the air* I own ALL the characters! Not really, and I apologize for the poor usage of that meme. The only character I own is Valeska Latimer.

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**Chapter 12 Mortifying Mistake**

Time for Valeska went by rather quickly after her meeting with Gary Golden. Although she had suffered from yet another night of restless sleep, luckily she had obtained just enough energy to do what needed to be done. The first thing she did upon waking up was as always to hop on her computer and check her email. Inside was a message from the previous evening's Nosferatu guest that explained through cryptic hints how to get into the database. Even with this new information though, she still found herself fighting tooth and nail with the system. As she worked, she questioned if this level of difficulty was shared with other hackers like her or if she was simply just an idiot. At this point she couldn't be sure of anything, and for all she knew it could have been that Gary was just luring her into a trap or pulling her leg. He definitely seemed the trickster type after all.

Eventually she did manage to get inside though, and at the precise moment she did, her downstairs neighbors might have described the sounds coming from her apartment to mirror that of someone losing their mind. While the ex-college student was usually humble and reserved about her accomplishments in life, she couldn't stop herself from literally leaping out of her chair with joy in order to perform some kind of dance ritual meant to honor her victory. If anyone else had been present in the room, they might have said that it looked like she was having an insanity induced seizure, and the happy yet unintelligible noises coming from her mouth probably wouldn't have helped her case.

Several fist pumps through the air later, she managed to calm herself down enough so that she could sit back on her sofa. While this victory was not one she had achieved on her own, but she honestly couldn't care less. After doing nothing but sit in front of her computer for two weeks straight with little to no evidence to show for it, she was just glad that this nightmare was finally coming to an end. Now she just had to record everything for the picky Prince of a boss she had.

For the next few hours, the young woman's emerald eyes remained only a few steps away from being permanently glued to her computer screen. As always when it came to new knowledge, she became almost completely immersed in it. This specific database was especially interesting to her, as it seemed to focus on the different areas that the Nosferatu lived and a few of the defenses they employed to keep others out such as giant dog-sized rats. She had only stopped a few times in her reading/recording of the database to munch on a raisin bagel here and there, but for the most part she remained in "the zone."

Long after the sun had set, she had finally finished her task. She couldn't help but feel a sense of pride when she looked at the thick folder in her hands. Inside was her long report which was not only detailed and professional, but quite attractive to look at if she did say so herself. She could only hope that the Prince would feel the same way about it and that he wouldn't be too angry with the delay. If he was, it wasn't like she could blame him. Nosferatu database or not, two weeks was a long period for anyone to wait. She would just have to be extra careful then, when walking on the invisible eggshells he had within his office.

It didn't take long after the completion of the report for her to shower, throw on a decent set of clothes, and head out of her studio apartment. Right as she got to the stairs though, she heard the elevator doors open behind her. Knowing it would probably be only one person, she quickly ducked behind the stairwell wall to see her landlord stumble out. He was obviously drunk, again, and as he began to knock roughly at her front door, she knew it would be a bad idea to attempt any kind of conversation with him. Creeping as silently as she could down the fight of stairs, she managed to get out of the building complex without running into any resistance.

As she was still nervous from her encounter with the Sabbat, she decided that while the cool night air was quite beautiful, taking a taxi would be much safer. Hailing down a cab, she slid inside the vehicle that reeked of cigar smoke and booze. Under her feet the floor was a bit slippery, and she silently prayed that it was the result of a spilled beverage and not a puddle of vomit.

"Destination: Venture Tower please," Valeska instructed the cab driver.

"Right away," the cabbie said in a low voice that somehow sounded familiar. Leaning forward she tried to get a better look at the driver, but he took off so suddenly that she only got to see half of his face. From what she saw, she didn't recognize the man as anyone she knew, but she still felt like she had met him before. Oh well, it was probably nothing.

As expected, the trip to the tallest building in downtown LA took only a small amount of time and was relatively uneventful. She saw the same sights, and the same type of people, so the only thing that was actually different about tonight was the level of attention she paid to those things. She hadn't left her apartment in almost a week and yet every time she did now, it was like seeing the world in a whole new light. Little things she used to disregard like pale skin or a couple making out in a dark alley, now practically screamed the term vampire in her mind. How could she have been so blind before? The closest thing that she could compare to how she felt about the situation was how Will Smith felt in _Men in Black_ when he discovered that aliens were coexisting with the humans of planet Earth. She wondered briefly if she would be able to adapt to her new life as quickly as his character had to his. It would probably take a bit of time, but one could hope.

Handing the cabbie a small handful of dollar bills, she hurried out of the vehicle and up to the double glass doors of Venture Tower. Once she entered the building, she saw that seated at the front security desk was Chunk, who appeared to be deeply enjoying a pastry of some kind. Putting on a smile she strode up to him, and leaned forward with her arms casually placed on top of the darkly colored counters of his desk.

"Heya Officer Chunk," she greeted cheerfully, hoping he remembered her. Apparently the poor fellow had been paying no attention to any incoming guests, for he jumped almost three feet in surprise upon seeing her and dropped his pastry in the process.

"Oh uh…hey!" he responded with bits of red jelly smeared on his guilty looking face. Next to him was a partially hidden box of donuts and other cake like items, which would explain why he also had white powder all over his uniform.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you," Prince LA's ghoul apologized with a weak smile. She hadn't noticed before (probably because she had been held hostage), but behind the desk was a bright blue neon sign of LaCroix's name written in a fancy font which mentally she had to scoff at. As if it weren't obvious before that he needed to exert his authority over everything around him.

"Nah you're fine ma'am," Chunk insisted, trying to lick his fingers clean, "Just uh don't tell the boss upstairs about this. It's a violation of code 516 ya see."

"Uh-huh," Valeska replied, not having a clue what he was talking about. Why on Earth would donuts violate any kind of code? Unless he was on a diet, which she doubted, she didn't want to know. "Is Prince Sebastian LaCroix in?"

"Prince?" the overweight officer asked with a confused expression, "I uh don't think there's any members of the royal family here missy."

"Oh right, sorry. That's a nickname he goes by every once in a while for humor purposes," she lied quickly. She figured Chunk would have some general idea about the Prince's true nature, but it seemed more so than not that he was just a puppet figure for the real security force.

"Huh…I'll have to use it sometime then!" he exclaimed with a grin.

"Uhm no that's a bad idea," she replied hurriedly to his comment, "It's kind of an offensive nickname that might cost you your job when I think about it. In fact you should just keep quiet about the whole thing so we don't get into any trouble."

"You can count on me ma'am," Chunk replied with a salute. "Looks like we both have our little secrets we keep from the boss, eh?" He gave her a clumsy wink and Valeska returned it with a nod and a small smile. She found it mildly humorous that he was comparing a stupid box of sweets to something as serious as a Masquerade violation. From what Mercurio had told her, the consequences of revealing anything about vampires to a mortal could range from a simple slap on the wrist to a much deadlier punishment. How foolish the security officer would feel if he knew the truth.

"So is he in?" Valeska repeated.

"Wha? Oh uh, yeah he's in," Officer Chunk responded as he dusted the donut powder from his dirty clothes, "Let me just buzz the elevator for ya."

"Are there any stairs I can take instead?" the young ghoul questioned, "Elevators make me kind of nervous."

"Sorry ma'am, but as far as I know it's the only way up," he answered with a shrug.

"Okay, no problem," she murmured feeling disappointed. "Have a nice night, Chunk."

"Cya around Miss Latimer!" the officer waved enthusiastically. So he did remember her name; at least he had one professional characteristic going for him.

Marching up the black stone steps of the lobby, she saw one of the six elevators open up to her. Hesitantly, she stepped inside and tapped the top button. Despite her anxiety surrounding what she considered as metal death traps, she recognized that this was a tradition she would have to get used to until she found the stairs, if she ever found the stairs. It was just another fear for her to overcome, and another test to see how well she could adapt to change. While these thoughts comforted her slightly, it didn't stop her from rushing like a mad woman out of the confining box as soon as the doors opened.

As she hadn't been paying attention and because she desperately wanted out of the elevator, she didn't realize until it was too late that she had slammed full force into none other than Prince LA. Papers that the both of them had been carrying flew up in every direction as they tumbled clumsily to the ground. Valeska landed right on top of a very startled LaCroix, with one of his arms on her shoulder and the other wrapped awkwardly around her back. Staring down at her boss, Valeska's wide eyes locked with his own surprised ones for what seemed like an eternity. She wasn't entirely sure what was going through his mind, but for her personally, their close proximity and the scent of his powerful cologne filling her nostrils made her want to lock lips with the Ventrue vampire. What made the moment even more oddly passionate was that she felt that this interest might actually be a mutually shared one. The two of them remained frozen though and whether it was from shock or something else, neither one of them made a move to get away from the situation that put them at the closest to one another they had ever been. Fortunately for LaCroix's ghoul however, her rational thinking processes returned so that she could let what had just happened sink in. When it did, her face immediately turned a deep shade of red.

"Oh my god, I am SO sorry!" she quickly apologized, still lying on top of him.

"Would you mind getting off of me, Valeska?" he asked in an odd tone she couldn't quite place. He had never called her by her first name either, so that was strange as well.

Quickly she scrambled to get up and held out her hand for the Prince. She figured he would probably refuse it as to not appear weak, but surprisingly he not only took her hand, but even allowed her to help him up. A brief moment of awkward silence passed between the two, until LaCroix cleared his throat to speak.

"I strongly suggest, Miss Latimer," he began in an irritated fashion she was more accustomed to, "That the next time you're exiting the elevators you at least use the common courtesy of watching where you are going!"

"Yes sir," she replied quietly. If there had been any kind of spark between the two only moments ago, it was completely gone now. Part of her wondered if she had imagined it all, but judging by the paper covered ground she determined that it hadn't been.

"Gather and organize those documents," Prince LA ordered while smoothing out his navy blue suit and straightening his dark tie, "Return to my office when you have finished."

With a nod, the young woman bent over to clean up the mess she had caused. Her boss glanced at her for a moment before turning on his heel and slamming his office doors. Frowning, she organized the papers into their respective piles while wondering what had caused his fit this time around. Even if it had been on accident, during one minute he had been gazing into her eyes and putting out signals that he wanted to kiss her, and the next he was ordering her around in his typical cold, pretentious manner. She wished she could say she hated him, but deep inside something prevented her from completely believing that. Something was seriously wrong with her mentally, that much was obvious. If she could only figure out what was producing this issue, she might have a better chance at finding a solution to it. Every time she tried to find the cause though, her mind went foggy and even the simplest of logical thought processes blurred into a jumbled array of emotional ramblings.

After putting the separate sets of documents back together, the deal she had made with Gary popped suddenly into her mind. She hesitated wanting to snoop, but a deal was a deal. Besides, Prince or not, he had done little to inspire any kind of loyalty from her nor did he deserve it anyway. Looking around and seeing no one, she cautiously flipped through the papers that LaCroix had been carrying. To her dismay though, she saw nothing overly significant except a handful of bills going out to pay for necessities. Then she realized that if he had been in possession of anything important, he probably would have picked up his things himself rather than entrust her to do it for him Sighing at her stupidity, she gathered up everything and went to his penthouse office doors. She might as well get this over with as quickly as possible.

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**Author's Note:** I know this chapter was a bit shorter than the others, but that's because I had to split up one huge chapter into two smaller ones. The next one will be a bit longer, so fear not! I also had to edit this chapter in a hurry due to some other life issues, so sorry if it was overly atrocious in the editing department. I still hope that this part of Valeska's story was enjoyable to at least some small degree, but if not, let me know what you didn't like so that I know what to avoid in the future. As always, feedback of any kind is much appreciated and inspires me to keep writing. If you've got any ideas, compliments, critiques, characters you'd like to see, or anything else, drop a review! I hope to see you all again in a few days. =)


	13. Curiously Captivating Compensation

**Author's Note:** Just like the previous chapter, there is some minor romantic tension in this chapter, but not very much. Things will fall into place eventually, but I believe a good romance is one that develops gradually, rather than suddenly. Enjoy!

**Special Thanks:** Once again, thank you to my readers for their inspiring dedication to my story. As per the usual, I want to take the time to also show my gratitude to the reviews of the last chapter, so much thanks to Sasha Naruto, aberdeenkev, Padme4000, Sof, and kimi492. To answer a few of your questions and responses: Yes to Sasha Naruto, my health is a lot better now though school is not what caused it. I thank you for your concern and am pleased that you're enjoying the story. Yes to aberdeenkev, eventually I will be following the main story of Bloodlines, but not quite yet. To Pademe4000, I am so glad that you find my story to be one of the best in this section. Seeing that really made my day, so thank you! You should really check out a few of the other vampire stories too though, especially ones by rednightmare. :) To Sof, I am also glad to hear that the last chapter got you into a fit of giggles. I personally hate when many stories fall dead, so I'm trying not to do that to my readers. To kimi492, I'm thrilled to hear that new people are getting into VTMB. It's such a great series, so I hope you continue to enjoy it as well as my own story. Thanks again everyone!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except Val and other OC's, but if I did, you can bet I would be demanding a release of a sequel to Bloodlines!

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**Chapter 13 Curiously Captivating Compensation **

Valeska raised her arm to knock at LaCroix's office door, but before she even got the chance he had already spoken.

"Enter," LaCroix commanded. How had he…? Oh right, superior hearing, duh. Doing as she was told, she entered her boss's office to see him writing busily at a stack of papers on his desk. Standing still as a statue next to him, was LaCroix's loyal bodyguard with his pale red eyes gleaming in the firelight. Walking forward and feeling more than a bit intimidated, she placed the papers the Prince had been carrying on his desk. Perhaps if she was quick and careful she might be able to catch a glimpse at whatever it was he was currently working on.

"Here are your documents," Valeska offered timidly before her next sentence came spilling out of her mouth, "I can't even begin to say how sorry I am about befor-"

"Do you have what I requested of you?" he interrupted, not even bothering to look up. So he was really going to pretend that nothing had occurred between the two of them only moments ago? Personally, she was glad with his decision since it had been a humiliating encounter, but at the same time she didn't want to just forget what had happened. Embarrassing or not, and as much as she hated giving into clichés, the situation had placed butterflies in her stomach. As hurtful as his choice was, it was probably better this way. If he truly wished to erase the memory from his mind, then so would she.

"I…yes sir, it's right here," she responded holding up her report on the Nosferatu database. While still writing with his one hand, he held out his other one signaling her to give him the information. Moving to give him what he wanted, he impatiently ripped it from her hands and flipped it open to read. Why was he being so rude? If he was trying to forget their collision in the hall, then he was definitely going about it the wrong way.

Seeing as how he was distracted though, Valeska saw this as the perfect opportunity for her to sneak a peek at his work. Subtly she glanced at his writing desk while at the same time, trying to keep an eye on the Prince's movements. She was able to decipher only a few words that looked like he was about to invest in some business endeavor, but she couldn't be sure. Reading small upside down print from several feet away was hard enough without having to worry about being caught while doing so.

Deciding that she wasn't going to find out much, she turned her attention to the being she now identified as the Sheriff. She had quizzed Mercurio about him, but it seemed that the only person who had any actual information on the massive hulk of a man was LaCroix himself, and it was doubtful he would expose anything about his loyal minion. She hadn't noticed it before, but the height difference between her blonde boss and his ashen skinned servant was enormous. She wondered with amusement if this was a coincidence or if it was another piece of evidence she could attribute to his inferiority complex. With the tallest tower in LA and a giant bodyguard on top of that, it was quite obvious he suffered from one, but just what was he over compensating for anyway?

"Interesting," LaCroix stated after a while. Looking away from the Sheriff, she saw the Prince staring at her intently with his cold greyish blue eyes.

"What is…?" she questioned, biting her lip nervously.

"Well first of all, when I appointed this task to you, I anticipated that it would take more than a mere two weeks for you to complete it," he replied, still watching her carefully.

"I told you I'm good at what I do," the ex-college student reminded him, making sure to look into his eyes as she spoke. Failing to do so might make it seem like she was hiding something, which in this case she was. Having her boss discover that she was working with Gary was the last thing she needed.

"So it would seem," the pale Prince agreed, "Secondly, I need to know approximately how much time was required for you to write this."

"I wrote it up earlier today. I know it's not the best in the world, but I felt the need to get back to you as soon as possible," she answered truthfully, hoping he might appreciate her attempt to serve him properly. Anticipating that he would probably start to chew her out over the smallest of grammatical errors, she was instead surprised to see his brow shoot up in disbelief.

"Is that the truth?" he interrogated. Confused with his sudden suspicion, she gave him the slightest nod of her head, not entirely sure what to expect next. "Then I must confess to finding myself taken back at the professional level of competency and precision that went into the making of this report." Relieved, Valeska exhaled a large amount of breath she hadn't realized she had been holding in.

"Thank you very much, sir," the Prince's ghoul acknowledged with an appreciative smile. She hadn't been expecting that, but knowing that he was even the least bit content made her absolutely ecstatic.

"Do you have much experience in undertaking work associated to this?" the Ventrue vampire asked gesturing at her report.

"I worked as a secretary for my, uhm…friend," she answered, which was partially a lie. The truth was, that she had actually been employed by her grandma who had run a small real estate business before her health had taken a turn for the worse. What she had said wasn't technically a lie since her grandma was her best friend. Once again though, she had just barely caught herself in time before spilling the beans about the most important person in her life. Why was it so hard for her to keep her mouth shut about herself around him?

"I see. I shall have to keep that in mind for any future tasks I assign to you," LaCroix informed her with a glint of mistrust in his eyes. "In the meantime, there is the matter of your reward that I need to attend to." Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a small envelope and slid it across his desk. "I believe this should be more than satisfactory in terms of compensation."

Feeling hopeful, Valeska picked up the envelope, opened it, and almost lost consciousness at the number of hundred dollar bills she saw inside. In her hands, she had to be holding at least a thousand dollars, though the amount was probably much larger. Moving her eyes upward from the wad of cash, she saw a small smirk on the Prince's face. There was no doubt in her mind that he was amused by her wide eyes and dropped jaw, but it was a lot of money for only two weeks of work! Never the less she did deserve it, and knowing that she could now pay off her landlord and assist her grandma made it so that the abundance of stress she had been carrying had now been removed.

"T-thank you, sir," Valeska stuttered, "This is greatly appreciated!"

"Yes, of course," the pretentious Prince replied as if he had given her five dollars and not over a thousand. "There is a second part to your payment that I am sure you'll appreciate even more than pocket change, but before we get to that, I have another job for you."

"What is it you would like?" she inquired politely. She had wanted to find out whether the Nosferatu database had been a test or not, but she was still so thrilled at the amount of money he had given her and curious about part two of her prize, that she could care less about the details of her last job. Yes he was an ass, but if this was what she could come to expect after every contract, then she was willing to do almost anything he wanted (within reason of course).

"Has Mercurio informed you of the city's Primogen?" he investigated with his hands clasped onto of each other.

"The leaders responsible for their respective clans, right? Yeah he has, though you'll have to forgive me if I don't recall much about their distinct personalities," the ex-college student replied trying to be thorough in her response.

"That's fine. I needed to know if you understood their role in vampire society and it would appear that you do hold knowledge of the basics at least," her boss explained, "The Malkavian Primogen, Aleister Grout, is holding a dinner party two days from now. The details in the invitation were vague, but since his field of specialism lies in the realm of psychology, my conjecture is that this will merely be another display of results from his latest experiments."

"Experiments? What kind of experiments?" Valeska enquired. The field of psychology was one that she herself found enticing, so already she was quite interested in whatever this job entailed.

"That's not important right now, but if it satisfies your curiosity, the nature of his work is ridiculous anyway," LaCroix explained with a bored expression, "Any reasoning for why anyone would dedicate their unlife to the exploration of the mental effects of vampirism continues to elude me. Yet, I suppose one shouldn't be too surprised, he IS a Malkavian after all."

"Of course, sir," the Prince's ghoul said, disappointed that he hadn't really answered her question completely, "Now about the dinner party?"

"Ah, yes. As I was saying, this meeting will be like any other in that it serves its purposes for me to network and display my authority as Prince," the Ventrue vampire informed his underling. "However, there will be one major difference: You will be attending the party with me."

"May I ask why?" Valeska queried. The idea of joining him in an event that was bound to be interesting was actually appealing to her, but none the less she was still curious for his reasoning behind such a decision.

"I was getting to that…" he responded, sounding annoyed, "With you accompanying me as my ghoul, little consideration will be granted to someone so seemingly insignificant. Due to this, it shall be the perfect opportunity for you to eavesdrop on the other guests. At some point, Grout will eventually redirect the attention of every person in the room, and when he does, that will be your chance to slip out undetected and explore his rather…eccentric mansion."

"What is it I will be listening and searching for, sir?" For a moment, the Prince didn't respond to her question. He looked like he was contemplating his next words quite seriously, and only after some time did he let out a heavy sigh before making direct eye contact with her again.

"Normally I would not be so quick to share something that is this important to anyone, but the current situation calls for me to do so. I have reason to believe that Aleister Grout may be conspiring against the Camarilla, and more specifically, myself," the pale Prince disclosed to her, still maintaining perfect eye contact. "As Prince of LA, I cannot stand idly by with the possible threat of treason lingering in the air. However, no action can be taken against the Malkavian Primogen without proof to support such a serious claim. Do you see where I am going with this?"

"I believe so. Would I be correct in assuming that you want me to search for any information that might make your accusations more concrete?" she asked. He nodded and sent her a pleased smile which made her mentally note that he looked a lot better when he wasn't constantly frowning with that serious expression of his.

"Any evidence you find against Grout will not only result in you being compensated accordingly, but with you will be the knowledge that you have done something truly significant for all the vampires of the Camarilla," her boss promised. Valeska wondered why he was actually trying to convince her to do this task as she was both his employee and his ghoul too. In the end, even if she had sought to say no, the both of them knew she couldn't. Why then, was he trying to make it seem like she had a choice?

"If that is what you want, than that is what I will do," Valeska communicated to the Prince who was eagerly awaiting her response. So far, the job didn't seem too complicated at all. Being an outcast in her early years of life, she had grown accustomed to being a wallflower and thus she was quite skilled at "accidently overhearing" important conversations. Additionally, digging up dirt on someone was another one of her favorite hobbies, so she knew she would be able to find at least one piece of worthwhile information for the Prince. Her ability to be stealthy on the other hand was rather amateur to say the least, but as long as everyone else was distracted, it wouldn't really matter anyway. Whether or not this Grout person was guilty, she was going to be the one to figure it out.

"Excellent," Sebastian LaCroix said sounding pleased with her choice of words, "Then two days from now at 8 o'clock sharp I'll arrive at your apartment to pick you up." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Although this may be a sensitive issue, I feel the need to address the situation involving your choice of…attire. While it may be comfortable for you, it barely passes the dress code for being professional. Therefore, at the dinner party I request that you actually wear something decent for once. As I told you before, everything from your actions to your appearance reflect directly onto me, so I'm sure you can understand how important it is to dress the part."

"Yes, sir," she agreed, feeling somewhat offended. Okay so she wasn't a fashion queen, but she wasn't stupid either. Did he really believe she was going to show up at a fancy dinner party wearing jeans and a t-shirt? She also believed that she looked somewhat nice this evening, and it hurt that he didn't think so too.

"Good. If you have nothing that might pass at such a formal event, than I implore you to borrow one of the dresses still in the closet down the hall," her vampire manager said, "Now then, with that out of the way I'm sure you're still curious about the second part of your reward."

"That I am," Valeska confessed. She loathed having to admit it, but she had been on edge ever since he had mentioned it. She wasn't a huge fan of surprises, so combined with her desire to satisfy her curiosity, she yearned to figure out what the mystery was. Rising from his chair, LaCroix strolled over to and took a seat on his comfortable looking red sofa that was across the room.

"Come here," Prince LA ordered, patting the area next to him on the couch. Not having a reason to resist doing so, Valeska walked to where he was only to stop when she noticed that he was grasping the fancy knife he usually kept on his desk. In one swift movement he lifted the right sleeve of his suit and sliced his wrist horizontally without so much as a painful wince.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded anxiously. It wasn't every day that she saw an individual literally cut themselves in front of her and more disturbingly, not even display a hint of emotional reaction after doing so.

"Drink," LaCroix instructed, holding his dripping wrist out to her.

"E-excuse me?" Valeska stammered while taking a step back from the alarming situation.

"You are my ghoul, this is your reward," he stated nonchalantly as if his wound were just a paper cut and not a deep gash.

"No thank you," she declined quickly, "I'm fine with just receiving money."

"I did not inquire as to what you were comfortable with, now did I?" the Ventrue vampire snapped, "This is a gift I am granting to you for a job well done. Now you WILL accept it."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I would really rather not end up being an addict," the nervous ghoul clarified.

"Who was it that conveyed to you that you would become an addict?" her boss interrogated with an eyebrow raised. Valeska thought long and hard on the question, but the answer eluded her. In fact, she was pretty sure it was a conclusion she had arrived at herself on the first night she had met the Prince.

"Uhm…no one," Valeska confessed, "I jus-"

"You've spent a great deal of time with Mercurio, and he's a ghoul isn't he? Does he appear as if he is some desperate and filthy addict suffering from withdrawal effects?" LaCroix interrupted, "Or do you believe that it would be more accurate to categorize him as a hardworking and resourceful individual?"

"The latter," she answered softly while trying to avoid the dirty look he was giving her. "I just…I assumed that there might be a disadvantage to drinking vampire blood is all…"

"Assumptions are a dangerous thing to possess, Miss Latimer. They cause normally loyal employees to question their leaders, which can result in chaos that can only be snuffed out in the most brutal manner," he implied in a dark tone of voice.

"Understood, sir." She kept eyes on the ground so that she could avoid having to look at the Prince who was probably still shooting daggers in her direction. Part of it was because she felt so insignificant standing in his presence, and the other part was because her levels of rage were rising. She wanted to clench her fists and scream at him. To tell him that he an arrogant prick that deserved to have the knife he was holding ripped out of his hands and used to ruin his flawless face. She despised him and yet she didn't, and so she decided that if she couldn't hate him completely, then she would redirect that angry energy inward to herself. It wasn't a healthy thing to do, but it was the only thing she could do.

The creak of the sofa sounded as she heard LaCroix stand up and walk toward her. Lifting her chin gently with his cold hand that he hadn't sliced, he stared into her eyes with an expression that Valeska assumed might pass for concern. She felt the same fluttering she had experienced before in the hallway and she noticed with irritation that her breathing had gotten shallower.

"I can understand the reasoning behind your unease, but I can assure with the utmost faith that you have absolutely nothing to fear from consuming my blood," the pale Prince promised with a reassuring smile, "All I'm requesting is that you place your trust in me, your master."

Valeska opened her mouth to speak, but shut it quickly so that she could give him a nod instead. There was no way she trusted him, not even a little, and no matter how hard he tried to convince her otherwise that wasn't going to change. Yet the way he spoke…it was so gentle and comforting that she couldn't help but feel herself actually wanting to be lured in by the manipulative man. In the end, what choice did she really have?

When she said nothing, LaCroix took it as his cue to tenderly place his arm around her shoulders as one would to a distraught lover or close friend. She felt herself being lead to the couch, and then experienced the small amount of comfort it had when the two of them sat upon it.

"I know that you will enjoy this, Valeska," the Ventrue vampire said, letting her name roll of his tongue. Offering up his wrist for the second time that evening, Valeska glanced at it and began to experience summersaults in her stomach. She bit her lip nervously as she felt the sweat running down the sides of her face and neck. Was she really going to do this?

Then a sudden almost primal instinct began to take over. Her anxiety was being replaced with a hunger that she had not once, ever experienced in her entire lifespan. Lowering herself to his wrist, she began to lick up the crimson rivulets of fluid that had gathered outside of his still gushing wound. As soon as her tongue made contact with his incredibly sweet blood, all awareness of her surroundings vanished. All she could feel was her wanting for the Prince and her intense desire to satisfy him in any manner he so chose. Money, blood, even sex, if he desired it she would have given it to him freely if he asked her for it.

Once his wrist was clean, Valeska turned her attention to his wound so that she could experience a fresh mouthful of blood from the vampire who was quickly transforming into a god right before her very eyes. If she thought she had been in bliss before, it was nothing compared to drinking directly from her master's veins. At her first swallow of his ruby colored vitae, she immediately felt like her entire body was floating. A sense of comforting warmth washed over her, rejuvenating her right to her very core. It was so delicious and so perfect running down her throat that it gave her the impression that she was the most important person in the world. What was more was that LaCroix had chosen her to be allowed this privilege rather than anyone else. She was worth something to him, and this thought alone meant more to her than if someone had handed the moon to her on a silver string. Slowly her eyes closed and she realized that her body had slumped against the man besides her. The same powerful cologne from before engulfed her which she didn't mind for it made her feel like LaCroix and herself had morphed into a singular personage.

"Uhm, Miss Latimer?" she heard the angelic voice of her master ask as he lightly shook her body. A moment of silence passed until she felt her body being laid across her master's lap and then the slightest of pin pricks on the side her neck. Something inside of her told her that she should have been in a lot more pain, but she disregarded these uncertainties. If the Prince was doing anything to her, she did not care. She belonged entirely to him and only him, so he could do with her as he pleased. Her head grew lighter as her consciousness drifted off, and the last thought that skittered through her paradise filled mind was that she was truly the luckiest person on the planet.

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**Author's Note:** I can't help but feel bad that Valeska is being tricked/forced into developing a blood bond with LaCroix, especially when she isn't even aware of what one is. Like I stated a few chapters back, their relationship will be one based on both obsession and genuine love, but I feel like a romance between the two would only blossom if the former came first. Prince LA after all, is a very selfish individual who just doesn't seem the type to develop attraction toward anyone without good reason, as it would serve only as a distraction for him. Anyway, I do hope that you enjoyed this chapter. The next one will be through LaCroix's POV which will reveal what he has been up to the past few weeks and also how he felt during some of the rather close encounters with his ghoul. As always, if you have anything you want to share, good or bad, please drop a review! =)


	14. Misery Loves Company

**Author's Note:** Since today is my birthday, I decided to release this chapter a bit early. Once again I had to split a single huge chapter into two, so this means that there will be two chapters through LaCroix's POV rather than just one. I personally find short chapters to be more enjoyable when compared to very long ones, so that is the primary reason for my actions. I'm finding it a challenge writing for everyone's favorite Prince, but hopefully I'm not doing too horribly in my mission to capture his personality. Anyway, I hope as always that you enjoy this chapter!

**Special Thanks:** Thank you to Sasha Naruto, aberdeenkev, and Sof for their awesome reviews on the last chapter (it is heavily appreciated!). To Sasha Naruto: I always saw Grout as an unfortunate victim in the Prince's schemes rather than someone who was trying to start a war. Judging by the recordings left throughout his mansion in Bloodlines, he decided to hide instead of go against which ever devious vampire (assuming LaCroix) had him so fearful. I'm still glad to hear that you're enjoying the story though! To aberdeenkev: I'm glad you like my story so far, and yes LaCroix is a bit of a prick isn't he? I do plan to implement a few of the more obscure clans in the future, but thank you very much for the idea! To Sof: I'm quite pleased to hear that I'm portraying Sebastian's speech patterns correctly. I always feel like such a jerk when I write for him because I tend to place myself in the mind of the character. Thanks again everyone! =)

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing from the World of Darkness, Troika Games, or Activision. I only own Valeska and my other OC characters.

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**Chapter 14 Misery Loves Company**

Sebastian LaCroix was in a bit of a pickle, and in fact he had been for the past few weeks. Ever since that fateful night in which the Prince had partaken in Valeska Latimer's blood, his ability to work effectively had decreased drastically. He wasn't even entirely sure why either, but his thoughts continuously drifted to topics that were pointless to ponder. How infuriating it was when he was meeting with the Primogen and all he could think about was how fanciful it would be to sample his ghoul for a second time. Every night he found himself angrily snapping at his secretary more and more, and for what? A delightful dinner?

He had read the information Gary had provided him, and was appalled that there was nothing overly fantastical about Miss Latimer. She had been born and raised in southern Arizona, and lived there all her life until she moved to California a year ago to further her education. Her mother had perished giving birth to her, and her father supposedly died only five years later, leaving her in the care of her sickly grandmother. During her early years she had excelled in her studies, but remained a social outcast when compared to her fellow students. She was heavily bullied until high school, in which she established a group of decent friends she could relate to. After which she attended a community college, graduated with the highest honors, and acquired her associates in Computer Science. While this was going on, she had been employed as a secretary for her grandma that ran a moderately successful realty company. Eventually the young woman's grandmother succumbed to a severe case of cancer that had forced her to quit the work force all together. Probably since she was grateful for her only living relative, Valeska started picking up shady jobs that involved a colorful array of illegal activities to pay for her grandmother's medical expenses. Even after she had moved to California, she continued to send money to her dying relative on a regular basis.

Other than that, there was nothing else overly interesting about her. She had a handful of hobbies she enjoyed like anyone else, and the only reason she stuck out at her schools was due to her superior grades. It was safe to say that up until now, she had lead a more or less normal and uneventful existence, excluding her criminal accomplishments. The information he had received from Gary, while much more useful than the report Katrina's ghoul (recently deceased) had provided, still gave no insight into why Valeska's blood was so sweet or the cause behind the hallucinations it brought on.

While Sebastian had not grown up as a spoiled child, his current position in life made it so that he was used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it. Not having an explanation for his ghoul's nature was incredibly frustrating, and he only hoped that an answer would develop soon. At least he had a general outline of her history on hand though, and knowing about her attachment to her grandmother would be excellent blackmail material should the need to exploit her arise. With how careful she had been with her choice of words before, it had been obvious that she was hiding something. Now he understood that it was because she had been nobly protecting her only living relative. Valeska was quite clever, he gave her that, but her intellectual abilities paled in comparison to the resources he possessed. If she thought she could get away with disguising the truth from him, then she was truly mistaken.

Days passed for the Ventrue vampire, with nothing out of the ordinary occurring. A signed contract here, a newly proposed marketing campaign there, and of course his usual duties as Prince were carried out as was the norm. His Sheriff had returned from his conquest to wipe out the Sabbat, but all that he had been able to track down was a shack outside LA. There were around two dozen of the parasites within, so rather than risk some of them escaping, the Sheriff rightfully reported back to his master on his discovery. The very next day, LaCroix bought up the land and had the hovel bulldozed to the ground when the sun was highest in the sky. Their ashy remains were then swept away along with the rest of the building, and the humans were none the wiser of what had really transpired. All in a day's work for the Prince of LA.

Yet his accomplishment did nothing to improve his mood, for near the end of the second week after he had last seen Valeska, his levels of frustration had grown dangerously high. At some point, he had been visited by a Malkavian requesting permission to sire a childe, but instead of listening to the vampire, he had flown off the handle at him. There was no decent reasoning behind his behavior either, it just sort of happened. The Malkavian had left in a hurry after that, probably attributing the Prince's poor manners to a bad night. While the Malkavian was an upstanding member of the community and had agreed not to act against the Masquerade, LaCroix set a couple of agents after him just to be sure.

He knew that his irritation was due to his impatience with waiting for Valeska's return, but he decided that perhaps if he acquired more sleep, then maybe he would feel well rested for once. Even if he didn't, the rough waters of vampire politics had been unusually tranquil, so there would no consequence for distracting himself with longer slumbers. That idea though, turned out to be a very poor decision indeed.

On the average the French Ventrue tended to rarely dream, but when he did his dreams always focused around his harsh upbringing or the battles he had fought during the French Revolution. Yet as of late, rather graphic imagery involving Miss Latimer had invaded his sleeping mind nearly every morning. Most of them didn't even make any sense either. When he had been alive, he had held little interest for romantic encounters with the opposite sex. He was far too busy fighting for his life or his ambitions to have time for a partner, and in his unlife it was nearly the same. Sure he was still a man who ogled the female figure from time to time, but some things were simply more important than being in a relationship. Yet the dreams he continued to have suggested otherwise as they always seemed to border on the erotic. It disgusted him that he was having impure thoughts of his young ghoul, and worse yet was that they sometimes lingered with him upon waking.

Tonight in particular was no different, as he couldn't get that damn woman off his mind no matter what he did. All he had been trying to do was pay a simple set of bills, but no, he couldn't even do that without being distracted. What was taking her so long to return to him anyway? Logically he knew that cracking the security of a Nosferatu database was no easy task, but that didn't halt his desire in wanting Valeska near him right at that exact moment. If he could just taste a single drop of her blood, then maybe it would ease the discomfort he was experiencing. Then it hit him. Was this how ghouls felt when they didn't acquire their fix? Just what the hell had he gotten himself into?

After his startling revelation, Sebastian had left his office in a hurry for two reasons. The first was to give Katrina the signed bills to mail out, and the second was so that he could order his chauffeur to transport him to Valeska's apartment. He needed to acquire a sample of her blood so that he could find out if that was what had been driving him insane. How surprised he had been when instead of walking into an empty elevator, he had walked straight into the person he was planning to see.

In his past, Prince LA had been placed in many uncomfortable positions. Business deals gone sour, screw ups in the battle field, conflict with the Anarchs, and even an incredibly awkward situation involving Therese Voerman switching personalities on him halfway through a conversation. Nothing though, came close to describing the difficult position he had been placed in when the two of them collided outside the elevators. He hadn't quite wanted their next rendezvous to result with his ghoul landing right on top of him, but that was exactly what had happened.

For him the event happened in slow motion. She had been dressed in a baby blue sleeveless blouse with a knee high black skirt, and because of this it gave him ample opportunity to feel her peachy skin which was remarkably smooth to the touch. Even her chocolate colored hair which brushed his fingers lightly was soft, and he literally had to stop himself from running his hand through it. When he gazed into her emerald green eyes he got the distinct sensation that she desired to kiss him, but what shocked and sickened him was that he wished to kiss her too.

Eventually after a long moment of awkward silence, they did separate their bodies and LaCroix had to retreat to his office in an attempt to calm himself down. It hadn't helped that when she bent over to pick up the mess of papers, her cleavage had been placed on full display for his wandering eyes to see. She was not aware of her mistake, but he had seen it, and it pissed him off.

When he returned to his office, he immediately returned to the work that needed to be done surrounding a recent business proposal. It had a decent payoff down the road, but the important thing was that it was an opportunity for him to escape from the confusion and anger he had. He would settle for just about anything to help him cool off at this point as he was not only still reeling from his close encounter with Valeska, but he was furious at the result of said event. He was the Prince of LA and a Ventrue on top of that, so he couldn't let his head become clouded by some pretty face. Any kind of romantic relationship with a human was ridiculously absurd, and something he would never, ever give into under any circumstances.

The moment Valeska had entered his office he put on his best poker face. Unemotional facial expressions, short and to the point responses, and any other techniques he knew to keep their affairs professional were what he planned to employ. He also intended to throw more than a few insults in her direction. He wasn't happy, so why should she be? However, the report she had written up had blown him away and prevented him from being overly rude. Rarely did he find himself impressed with his underlings, but the results of her labor contradicted his expectations entirely.

While he was already well aware of where most of the Nosferatu nests in California were, LaCroix had only a general inkling as to what kind of protection the clan had to protect themselves. Valeska's surprisingly advantageous report shed light on not only their defenses, but even a number of ways to elude them. The fact that she had gotten inside the database within a period of only two weeks, and spent only a single day creating the report added to the amazement he had with her. What had meant to serve as a simple test, she had passed with flying colors. Sure she had been the cause of his sufferings over the previous weeks, but now more than ever he believed that he had made a sound investment with her.

Yet the possibility that she may have gotten help kept nagging at him in the back of his mind. The level of work that went into her report and the material contained within was almost too good to be true. Ever since he had arrived in California, he had formed barely any allies, but many enemies such as the Anarchs, the Sabbat, the Kuejin, and even a handful of independent trickster vampires who thrived on mischief. The one person he could think of who had the resources and motives to help Valeska, was Gary Golden. The Nosferatu Primogen after all had made a deal with the Prince so that he could meet his new ghoul, so it was possible the pair came to some sort of agreement behind his back. It was unlikely though that the sewer rat's leader would be willing to part with data that might leave him open to attack, not that many would be foolish enough to do so. The report may have been falsified, but that too seemed doubtful. He would simply have to keep a careful eye on her movements and keep his paranoid suspicions at bay.

One very long conversation later, the Prince had managed to line up all of his ducks in a perfect row. He had rewarded Miss Latimer with a decent amount of cash, an event that had provided him with a fair bit of amusement because of her stunned facial expression. After that he had gotten Valeska to agree to her second job, which would serve as an excellent test on a wide range of abilities Sebastian might make use of in the future. This job in particular would probably be the most important thing the young woman would ever do while employed under him, especially because of the way the Malkavian Primogen had been behaving as of late.

The first time Prince LA had met Aleister Grout, they had treated each other with a level of respect LaCroix believed to have been absent since the ending of the nineteenth century. In fact if he hadn't known in advance that he was Malkavian, the possibility would have never crossed his mind. His appearance may have been a bit eccentric in that it looked like he was dressing from another era, yet even that wasn't entirely unusual when it came to older vampires who spent most of their years away from mainstream society. Even his vocabulary had been in pristine condition when compared to his peers who often babbled paranoid nonsense. The more Sebastian and the other Primogen met with the highly cultivated and intellectual Grout, the more they were convinced that he would be perfectly suited to serving the community. Eventually they offered him a seat of power as clan Malkavian's Primogen, and he had graciously accepted, even going as far as to change his clothing style to be more modern as to play the part.

As of late though, Grout's actions had slowly started to shift to that of someone who was hiding something. He was continuing to host his semiannual dinner parties/research presentations, but his absence in important meetings was frequently being noted. When he did show up, his typically ironed clothing was wrinkled, and the colors of said attire simply didn't match. His normally neat silver hair was frizzy, and his dark eyes had begun to cloud with more than a hint of mistrust. Previously he had held an opinion on almost every issue, and the solutions he offered to them were quite effective or at the very least, incredibly creative. Now instead, Grout spent most of his time during conferences seated in the rear of the room, remaining silent and directing most of his almost fearful attention to LaCroix.

Now the Prince knew that he was not the most trustworthy of persons in the world. He had been forced to claw his way up from the day he had been born, and his ambitions made it so that he wouldn't stop until he reached the top. He desired power above all else, and for that exact reason he had been involved in some more than questionable things in his past. Murder, treason, blackmail, theft, lying, anything that could exploit or harm his opponents he had either done himself or manipulated someone to do it for him. Yet even with all of that against him, he held the deeply seated belief that he was not an evil person. The end justified the means after all, and in this case the end would result in him having higher amounts of authority in vampire society.

Even before he joined the Ventrue clan, leadership was something that had always been close to his heart. Now that he was both a successful business CEO and a Camarilla Prince, it would be fair to say that he had excelled in being an effective and fair leader. While he had his flaws, he was able to make the hard decisions that no one else could and often that was what leadership was all about. If something came crashing to the ground or if someone disagreed with a certain verdict, it was he who took the blame for it. The fact that he was okay with this and that he could handle the heat just meant he was more than capable at doing his job. The sooner the inner council realized this, the sooner he would be closer to achieving his goals. After all, who better was there than he to lead the masses of kindred and kine alike?

However, one wrong slip up or one detail exposed about his shady past, and he might as well go into torpor for a century, because that's about how long it would take for him to climb back up the ladder of vampire politics. With the way Grout was acting around LaCroix, it was clear he had knowledge that could be used against him. How the Malkavian Primogen knew was uncertain, but like many of the lunatics it was probably due to insightful voices that might be whispering the Prince's secrets. Even if it was something small, which he doubted based on Grout's paranoid behavior, he couldn't risk anything about his history getting out. Assigning Valeska to snoop for hard evidence in Aleister's mansion would be like killing two birds with a single stone. It would allow him to further test his ghoul's abilities in different situations and also to discover anything the Malkavian might be plotting against him.

The dinner party was not set to occur until several days though, so his next move was to get his vitae into Valeska's system as quickly as possible. He still planned on establishing a blood bond with the ex-college student, but he was incredibly cautious about doing so based on past experiences.

In the last hundred years or so, he had only a handful of ghouls he had ever employed. The first had been a complete accident due to his own stupidity in feeling sympathy and attraction toward a dying mortal. He had been very young and very foolish at the time, and he had no idea that the French woman would become completely obsessed with him after her first sip of his vitae. Having a beautiful female literally worship the ground he walked on and submit to him entirely was incredibly appealing, and he rewarded her accordingly. Eventually they formed a blood bond, and it was only then that he realized the danger behind such an unwise decision.

When his sire had found out about his actions, LaCroix had been punished harshly, and his ghoul put to death. It had been a tough lesson for him to learn, and his response to her passing had not been pretty. Eventually he did come to understand the wisdom associated with being careful in his choice of ghouls and most importantly what level of attachment to form with them. In this instance, he was unsure of how far he should actually go with Valeska. A truly compelling blood bond that inspired the highest of loyalties though, could only occur when a mortal fed upon a vampire three separate times over an interval of thirty days. So far Valeska appeared to be submissive to him, but there was still a bit of resistance emanating from her. Additionally she was continuously lying to him about a great deal of things, but raising the blood bond between them would solve that problem. It was a risky move, but the more attached to him that she was, the better he could control her.

When she rejected his more than generous offer of vitae, it was further evidence that he needed to get her under his control and soon. He couldn't have a rebellious minion running around disobeying his orders and refusing his authority after all. If he had wanted that, he would have traveled to The Last Round. He needed Valeska to feel like she had a choice in the matter though, but he had accidently come off too strongly with his demands. Realizing his mistake he quickly employed his silver tongue to try to persuade her, but that too seemed to fall on deaf ears. What else could he do to make her feel comfortable? Well, there was one thing…

Rising from his sofa he made his way to Miss Latimer whose eyes were glued to the ground. Gently he lifted her chin and stared deeply into her eyes; an action he could tell she found surprising yet also pleasant. Due to the effects of his own vitae, he already knew she held a decent amount of attraction toward him. Her body language and the events of their accident outside practically screamed of her obvious interest in him, so this was something he could and would exploit. He would have preferred their affairs be kept professional, but until she was attached to him, it couldn't be helped.

"I can understand the reasoning behind your unease, but I can assure with the utmost faith that you have absolutely nothing to fear from consuming my blood," LaCroix promised with a reassuring smile, "All I'm requesting is that you place your trust in me, your master."

In her eyes he saw the same level of skepticism, but it had lessened and was continuing to do so the more physical contact he bestowed upon her. To back up this theory, as soon as he put his arm around her, he felt her muscles relax almost immediately. Leading her to his sofa, the pair seated themselves upon it and he made sure to keep her body close to his. In just a few more moments he would have exactly what he wanted as long as he maintained the façade that he cared for her safety.

"I know you will enjoy this, Valeska," he said softly in her ear while placing emphasis on her name. He felt her shudder slightly and could tell he was arousing her. Controlling her was almost too easy, for he had her exactly place where he wanted her.

Raising his wrist to tempt her, he was stunned at the ferocity that suddenly overcame her. She was acting almost like a wild animal that hadn't been fed in weeks and was thus taking it out on him. If she was a vampire he might have said she was frenzying, but she was obviously human, so he had no idea why she was behaving the way she was. Deciding that she had had enough, he tried to pull away, but she held fast to him like glue. Right as he was beginning to feel unnerved, her hungry mouth slipped from his wrist, and her body slumped into his.

"Uhm, Miss Latimer?" Prince LA asked while shaking her gently. Well this had never happened before. Checking her pulse to make sure her heart was beating, he found that thankfully she was indeed alive. It was not often he let his subjects feed directly from him as he saw it as highly unsanitary, yet never had any of them fallen asleep on him. Her reaction may have been usual, but it wasn't cause for alarm.

Trying to reposition her body so that it wasn't crushing him, he was startled when she suddenly fell right across his lap. Staring at her unconscious form he saw her enticing neck peeking out at him from under a mess of brown hair. While he had intended to feed on his ghoul after her own meal, he had anticipated that she would have been awake. Did it really matter though? Every plan that centered around Valeska for that evening lead up to only one point anyway: satisfying his thirst.

"Wait outside," LaCroix ordered quickly to his Sheriff. He trusted his bodyguard, but anything that happened between Miss Latimer and himself should remain private. Nodding, the massive vampire of clan Nagloper obediently left his presence, closing the doors behind him. Now to finally get down to business…

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**Author's Note: **So how was this chapter? I personally am finding it fun to backtrack to certain events to reveal how the different characters interpret a single situation. One could interview a room full of people, and yet each person would tell a different account of the events that happened. I kind of wanted to employ that same technique here, only to show how vastly different Valeska, LaCroix, Gary, and others view things based off their personalities. It's also refreshing for me to switch views here and there as so the story is not so stale. I would also assume it's a nice change of pace for the reader as well, since I can reveal a lot more about a character's history through their own mind rather than them openly telling everyone around them. LaCroix in particular is a mysterious character whose history was made rather vague in the game, and although he obviously thinks highly of himself, he's the type to not risk sharing anything about himself. Anyway I'll stop blabbering on and let you guys get back to your lives. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you drop a review if you can! =)


	15. Visions of Sugarplums

**Author's Note: **So here we have part two of LaCroix's POV. It is the longest chapter I've produced yet, but it offers more insight in Prince LA's mysterious past and even a bit of the Sheriff's history. Most of it makes the Prince look even more the monstrous antagonist that he was in Bloodlines, but in the end I suppose it depends on perspective, no? Hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it, for as difficult as it was to create, the challenge behind it was awesome. Also, if you left a review be sure to check my responses/own questions below!

**Special Thanks: **Thank you again to all my readers/reviewers! I want to use this space now to respond to your questions and comments so… To Sasha Naruto: Thank you for the birthday wishes, they are much appreciated! I have to admit that I died of laughter at your comment of Bach being a fan girl. All this time we thought he wanted to destroy the Prince, but all he wanted was an autograph. xD I agree though that Grout probably had a few of his own dark secrets (besides the obvious ones), as it's rare that there are any truly innocent vampires out there. To aberdeenkev: I'm not sure how far to take the blood bond between the two yet, but soon Valeska will discover the truth and I can tell you it won't be pretty. You mentioned a love triangle, so out of curiosity did you have any characters in mind that she might be compatible with or would like to see her get intimate with? To Sof: So happy to hear you're enjoying the story! There's plenty more backstory in this chapter when compared to the other, so I think you'll like this one a lot too. =)

**Disclaimer:** I own none of the characters other than those I created myself (Valeska, random bums, Katrina, landlord, chauffeur, etc).

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**Chapter 15 Visions of Sugarplums**

Brushing Valeska's hair aside, LaCroix licked his lips in anticipation for the delicacy he was about to partake in. Bringing his mouth to her neck, a subtle perfume he hadn't noticed earlier tickled his nose. In his mind he wondered if she had worn it for him, and oddly he found that he liked this possibility. Baring his fangs he sunk them into her tender neck, and a tiny whimper slipped from his ghoul's lips. He doubted she was experiencing any sort of pain, but if she even if she was he didn't much care anyway. She had gotten her fill of blood so now it was only fair that the pleasure of such be shared.

While the Prince drank from his ghoul, he began to grow worried that perhaps his initial sample from her had been some kind of fluke. Her blood tasted just as pleasant from before if not better, but his mind remained free of any beautiful imagery. Perhaps if he drank more from her? Biting deeper and ignoring her soft whines of protest, he downed more and more of her ruby fluids until he had to force himself to stop. If he wasn't careful, he might end up killing her which wouldn't benefit anyone. As soon as he removed his fangs from his sleeping servant however, bliss unlike any he could ever recall completely overwhelmed his senses. In fact the experience for him was so incredible that it felt like his body had been forcefully thrown against the sofa.

Watching in awe, his surroundings began to quickly transform into that of a lovely field, which as far as the eye could see was covered in lavenders that were a deep shade of purple. On the hilly horizon scattered like a small helping of sprinkles on a sundae, were lush gigantic oak trees that stretched up towards the grey skies. As large as the trees were though, they paled in comparison to the enormous snow tipped mountains in the distance. The sound of running water could be heard and after searching for the source, LaCroix discovered a thin river that cut through the earth and flowed into a dense forest nearby. Inhaling a generous amount of fresh air, he was met with the combined scent of lavender flowers and wet dirt, a result no doubt from the recent rain that had formed into shallow puddles along the ground. Thunder rumbled overhead and almost immediately afterward a faint drizzle of cool droplets began to descend from the angry clouds. Slowly the water began to seep through the Prince's clothing, a feeling he thoroughly enjoyed, but had not had the delight of experiencing in several years.

Sebastian knew this area, and in fact he knew it quite well. It was Grasse of France, famed for its beautiful works of art, rich history, and most importantly for being the perfume capital of the world. Geographically it was located far from his birth place of Calais, but it remained one of his favorite places in his home country for the primary reason that it was so peaceful. Shortly after he had been embraced, his Belgium sire and he had returned to France so that he could be educated in the Ventrue way while in a more familiar environment. Like most young vampires though, he found it difficult at first to adjust to his new existence. Often when his harsh sire got overly demanding, the Prince would escape into the night like an unruly teenager sneaking out after curfew. Always did he find himself in the fields of Grasse, and always would he lie under the clear night sky, enjoying the twinkling stars and quiet that the night had to offer. Things were far from simple then, but it had been the little things that made his stresses more tolerable.

Now was no different from before in that he found himself positioning his body flat on the ground with his arms behind his head. He didn't mind if his suit was getting muddy from the dirt or wet from the rain. He hadn't traveled to Grasse in over a century, so he was definitely going to take full advantage of the moment. Closing his eyes he listened to the soft pitter patter of the rain around him while his body sunk slightly into the soft ground beneath him. This was paradise.

As swiftly as the hallucination had begun though, it ended abruptly with LaCroix jerking violently awake. His sudden movements resulted in Valeska sliding right off his lap and landing roughly on the hard floor below. Despite this, he was still too distracted with what had just happened to notice. With his index finger and thumb, he rubbed the bridge of his nose before looking around. He recognized with disappointment that he was indeed back in his office, and that everything he had experienced had only been an illusion. His clothes were bone dry and the usual smell of ash from his fireplace clouded the air rather than the scent of flora and fresh rain. How could something that felt so real, not be?

Following his moment of contemplation he looked down at Valeska who was still fast asleep. Rolling his eyes he kneeled next to her to make sure she was alright, and besides her glasses that were a bit askew, she was. The rug that lead up to his desk had softened her fall so at most she might have a small bump or bruise somewhere when she woke up. Eyeing her neck, he had to resist going in for seconds as he lowered his mouth to flick his tongue over her puncture marks so that they could heal. He would have done the same to his wrist, but his self-inflicted knife wound had already closed. Picking up her body, which was as light as feather to him due to his vampiric abilities, he placed her on the couch.

"Miss Latimer?" Prince LA loudly addressed to his slumbering ghoul who didn't budge an inch. Lightly he shook her body and then a bit harder, but she was out cold. Sighing with irritation, he knew he couldn't leave her in his office, nor could he let her stay another night in his penthouse. She might start thinking that there was something between the two of them, and he definitely did not need that. The only reason he had shown her any compassion in the first place was to manipulate her, nothing more. As much as he despised the idea, he would have to take her home. She was his ghoul after all, so her welfare was his responsibility whether he liked it or not.

Lifting her up again, he placed one arm behind her neck, and the other underneath her knees. As he began to walk toward his doors, they swung open suddenly to reveal his secretary, Katrina, standing there looking dumbfounded with an armful of papers.

"Oh my!" the Toreador cried dramatically with a look of concern, "Is she alright?" Without waiting for a reply, she rushed forward to check for Valeska's pulse.

"She's fine," LaCroix responded, swiftly moving his unconscious ghoul away from Katrina's anxious hands. He wasn't sure why all of a sudden he didn't want anyone touching Valeska, but he just didn't. "I am returning her to her apartment now."

"Would you like me to do it for you, sir?" she asked politely. He knew she was only trying to do her job, but he felt a surge of unexplained anger pass through him never the less.

"If I had required your assistance I would have requested it," the Prince snapped defensively. "I'll handle this myself, now move."

"Yes, sir," his secretary said quietly, bowing her head and stepping aside. Shoving past her, he signaled his Sheriff who was still waiting outside his office to follow him. As was the custom, where ever LaCroix went, his bodyguard followed closely behind.

"Inform my chauffeur that I'll be meeting him in the back alley rather than at the front entrance," LaCroix ordered to his bodyguard who said nothing, but obediently moved ahead to take the stairs.

The last thing he wanted to deal with tonight was running into that blundering idiot at the lobby desk downstairs. Additionally he needed to steer clear of the prying eyes of the human paparazzi and any curious vampires that might catch sight of his actions. If anyone saw the CEO/Prince placing an unconscious female in the back of his car, the outrageous rumors that would hit the newsstands might possibly ruin him. Something like that had to be avoided at all costs, so a high level of subtly and discreteness needed to be applied to the situation.

After navigating through the maze that was his haven, Prince LA found himself waiting in the dark alleyway located directly behind Ventrue Tower. He was completely alone, save for Valeska, and he couldn't help but a feel a sense of unease sweep over him. What was taking his damn driver so long? He was a Ventrue Prince, not some personage belonging to the common rabble. Forcing someone of his stature to wait in such a filthy location that reeked of garbage and alcohol was probably one of the highest dishonors someone could bestow to him. Besides, who knows what threat might be lurking right around the bend? He could handle himself in a fight should the need arise, but he shouldn't even have to be placed in that position in the first place.

The sudden noise of crashing steel and breaking bottles echoed down the alley, tearing LaCroix from his thoughts and causing him to jump with surprise. Expecting the worst, he whirled around around to view the cause. Luckily he was only met with a seemingly homeless man stumbling clumsily into the clearing. He was dressed in little more than a mess of dirty rags, and even from several feet away the smell of booze emanating from the bum was overwhelming.

"H-hey!" the inebriated man shouted, "Wha…whatchoo doin'?"

"Oh of course…" the exasperated Prince mumbled angrily to himself. He remained silent until the curious bum got closer so that eye contact could be more easily established.

"Whatchoo gots a lady fer?" the hobo questioned with suspicion once he saw Valeska.

"You are exhausted. Sleep now and forget what you have seen," the Ventrue vampire ordered using his Dominate discipline. LaCroix's head buzzed for a split second as the energy he commanded conquered the mind of his weak target.

"Yeeeaaah…okay, I'll go to sleep now…" the homeless man said in between a handful of yawns. Leaning against the wall the bum lost his balance, slipped onto the grimy ground, and passed out. Not that it mattered, but LaCroix wasn't sure if the drunk was unconscious because of the order he had been given, the abundance of alcohol in his system, or the fact that he smacked his head quite hard when he fell. Oh well.

"Wretch…" Prince LA spat out in disgust while stepping away from the bum. Thank goodness he had an excuse for not feeding from the low lives that the world seemed overrun with. How anyone, Ventrue or not, could ever lower themselves to feed from such disgusting kine was something he would never understand. It was better than giving into the Beast, but still…

Right as LaCroix was beginning to plan a number of serious punishments for his driver, his black Rolls-Royce appeared at the entrance of the alley. Quickly he walked to his vehicle, treading carefully as to avoid stepping in the murky potholes full of unknown liquids. His shoes weren't exactly cheap and he did not need muck covering them. Approaching the car, his chauffeur immediately jumped out of the car and hurried to open the rear doors for the Prince.

"It is about time you arrived! What took you so long?" Prince LA demanded crossly as he placed Valeska in the empty back seat. He need not wonder where his Sheriff was, for his shadow from the street lights was being casted into the back of the vehicle from where he was seated up front.

"I apologize for the delay Prince LaCroix," his chauffeur said quickly, "I only got word from your Sheriff of where you wanted to meet a minute ago."

"Shifting the blame is not going to get you anywhere in this organization," LaCroix informed the nervous driver. "Your master will be informed of your shortcomings and he will handle your discipline."

His chauffeur, while normally competent, was actually a ghoul who belonged to one of the several vampires that worked under the Prince. He was more than just a driver in that he had a wide range of skills that were reserved for if a worst case scenario should occur. Overall he was a good employee, but his current mistake was one that needed to be reprimanded.

"Of course sir, now where would you like me to take you this evening?" the ghoul asked respectfully. As always his chauffeur was utilizing the correct techniques in handling an angry Prince: civility and compliance.

"The Chalfonte apartment complex," LaCroix answered before sliding into his luxurious mode of transportation. His vehicle was not at all cheap, but like everything in his life he would settle only for what he considered to be the best. Comfortable beige leather seats, high powered air conditioning, a DVD entertainment system, premium speakers, a refrigerator, heated/cooled cup holders; anything and everything he thought necessary was within his Rolls-Royce Phantom, and he would have it no other way.

His chauffeur nodded, shut the doors, and climbed into the front of the vehicle to begin driving to their destination. The apartment complex wasn't too terribly far, a few miles at most, but it gave him the opportunity to stare blankly out at the passing scenery. It was quite dull and he was reminded why he preferred staring down at the city rather than sharing the ground with its inhabitants who were destroying their surroundings with litter and graffiti.

As they drove past the Last Round, he spotted the famed Nines Rodriguez leaning against the bar known to harbor the city's Anarchs. Thankfully the Prince's windows were tinted, but he got the feeling the Brujah vampire knew who was inside anyway. That or he assumed some "corrupt" politician or equally important person was seated within. His hatred for anyone in a position of power or in possession of a decent amount of money was well known, so either way Nines probably already held contempt for the persons inside the expensive vehicle. The Anarch leader (as he was recognized more or less to be), had a level of ignorance that was outright astounding to the Prince sometimes.

Nothing else meaningful happened in their travels, but LaCroix was surprised to see the amount of other cars on the street that was in turn delaying their arrival significantly. It was a small number, but an odd sight for the late night none the less. What time was it anyway? Glancing at his Rolex, Prince LA's eyes widened in shock. If his watch was correct in what it was displaying, the sun was due to start rising in little under twenty minutes. How could he have been so foolish as to not check the clock before leaving his haven?

"How long will the return trip take?" the Ventrue vampire anxiously questioned.

"No more than fifteen minutes, why?"

"Damn it all!" LaCroix cursed angrily not bothering to respond to his driver's question. If he did not realize what the problem was, then he was obviously in the wrong line of work.

Now what was he going to do? As the minutes ticked by, the amount of traffic was only due to increase since the city's residents would soon be rushing to their mundane 8 to 5 jobs. By the time they arrived at the apartment building, dropped off Valeska, and then returned to Venture Tower, the sun would be well above the horizon. In other words he wouldn't be able to return to his haven or at least not safely since his shaded windows only offered so much protection. Quickly he began to weigh the pros and cons of a variety of options that flew through his desperate mind.

There were plenty of people close to his haven he could go to for assistance, Maximillian Strauss, the Tremere Primogen and Regent, being one of them. Yet he was hesitant to ask for help from him for many reasons. The first was because as supportive to the Camarilla that the Tremere clan was, he still didn't trust the blood mages. Their presences were already eerie enough without having to worry about what their true motives were. The clan's history was also very shady, but he could let bygones be bygones seeing as how Sebastian had been no angel in his own life. Secondly, like most Tremere vampires, Maximillian Strauss was no fool. If LaCroix were to walk up, ring the Chantry's doorbell, and then attempt to lie to its highly intelligent Regent, the results would be disastrous. Since he was the city's Prince, he would be granted access to a guest quarters no problem, but in return he would probably be heavily interrogated. While he might be able to hold his own against someone as crafty as Strauss, he would rather not risk the true reason for needing help slip out. The third and final reason behind avoiding the Tremere Regent was because the Chantry was only a stone's throw away from Ventrue Tower. He might as well make a dash for his haven rather than pay an early morning visit to Maximillian who was probably already fast asleep.

Scratching that idea from his mind, he considered seeking assistance from the Ventrue vampire that he knew lived nearby. Besides the many perks that the Ventrue clan had to offer, there was the old tradition that should a member request aid from another that they be granted it with no questions asked. Few Ventrue ever resorted to this custom as it showed incompetence, but in this instance it seemed the best thing to do. Then again he was the Prince and he still had his reputation to keep. Any vampire would or at least should be honored to house a Prince, but whether they would keep their mouth shut about the incident was an entirely different story.

Well, what if he were to stay the day at Valeska's place instead? For some reason as absurd as the idea initially appeared, it was actually the best solution to his problem. As long as he was careful he would be able to enter the complex undetected, so that the only people who would be aware of his actions would be his Sheriff and chauffeur. His guardian was already more than trustworthy and his driver would more than likely remain quiet as long as he was given the right incentive. Valeska was a logical woman so surely she would understand when he informed her of the reasoning behind his rather hasty decision. Besides he was her master, what was she going to say against him?

The only problem he could possibly see happening was his ghoul attributing his actions based on some kind of attraction to her, which was outright preposterous. Yes she was physically attractive and yes her blood made things interesting for him, but if she was going to think that made her worthy of his affections, then she was very wrong. There was also the political backlash that could come to be if he were caught, but at this point no matter what he did there was some kind of risk involved. The only difference with staying with Valeska was that this threat level was significantly decreased.

"We're here," his chauffeur announced.

"Good. Return to Venture Tower without us and remain silent about my whereabouts. Do this and I shall hold my tongue about your previous failures in the next conversation I have with your master," LaCroix said attempting to persuade his driver.

"As you wish my Prince. If anyone should ask I'll tell them you are visiting with Leonardo," the ghoul chauffeur offered. This alibi was actually a very good one, as Leonardo was the exact Ventrue he had considered staying with before he realized Valeska's place would be safer. The two of them were friends, if such a word could be used in vampire politics, but the important thing was that no one would question why he was at Leonardo's haven.

"An excellent idea, thank you," Prince LA acknowledged hurriedly. Scrambling out of the vehicle to begin transporting his own ghoul, he spotted his Sheriff who was also exiting the car. "Unfortunately you're going to have to rest out here for the day."

Simply nodding, the massive vampire marched into a nearby alley and used his Protean discipline to meld with the Earth; something that would keep him more than well protected from the sun. Normally the rare vampires from the African bloodline of Nagloper did not possess such abilities as their clan disciplines focused on Auspex, Animalism, and Vicissitude (flesh crafting). However the Sheriff was different in that aspect as he was more than well-schooled in several various fields of vampiric abilities. It was one of the main reasons LaCroix's sire had accepted the Nagloper into his services.

Being one of the more memorable moments in his past, Prince LA could still reminisce on his time spent in the jungles of Uganda, Africa. During that point, LaCroix had still been under the tutelage of his cold Belgium sire, and the two of them had been exploring new territory to be conquered for fortune and fame. Sebastian had outright hated it there as it was unbearably humid and the primitive people who were incredibly superstitious had made their trip more stressful than it should have been. Instead of claiming Uganda in the Ventrue name, they had at some point accidently stumbled upon a pack of territorial Nagloper. It was a terrifying moment for LaCroix, as the vicious pack of beasts seemed to be itching to either rip them limb from limb or sadistically experiment on them with their twisted flesh crafting talents. The battle had been long and bloody, but due to their experience in wars long since passed, the pair of Ventrue vampires came out victorious.

After going through the deceased belongings, they discovered a large cage which contained the Sheriff. Apparently he had been living out a hellish existence as a slave to his fellow brethren. Once a hard working human from a village not too far away, he had been captured, mercilessly tortured, and then turned against his will to serve his pack as a dutiful protector. Out of fear he never dared to turn on those who were more powerful than him, so not once did he ever fight against his injustice. Grateful to his saviors, he freely pledged his services to LaCroix's sire. Since his cruel Nagloper masters had stripped his very name and identity from him, the Belgium Ventrue decidedly gave him the name Sheriff so that he could better understand the duties he was responsible for. He had been under the control of his masters for far too long, and knew he would never be accepted back into his small village. Everything about his past life he had mostly forgotten anyway, so he was glad to follow their leadership.

Soon after it was then that LaCroix had the realization that the new addition to their trio was the exact opportunity he had been waiting for to dispose of his sire once and for all. Alone he couldn't achieve vengeance on the man who treated Sebastian like he was nothing more than a mere ant, but with the Sheriff he could. It didn't take long after that for the Prince to ironically employ the same manipulative techniques his sire had used on him, in order to convince the Nagloper vampire that his new master was just as abusive as those that had controlled him before. That sweet moment when LaCroix had stood over his defeated sire and let him know exactly how superior he was to the fool…it was a moment he would never forget as well as the beginning of something of an addiction for him.

Glaring into an enemy's eyes and letting them know that they had not only made the terrible mistake of underestimating him, but that they were about to suffer their final death at his hands was a glorious feeling. If he could attempt to explain it, he would say that it was like being overcome with an almost euphoric adrenalin rush of power or perhaps more accurately, the feeling he got when drinking Valeska's blood.

His betrayal to his sire had been downright cruel yes, but it had also been warranted. He was not some slave meant to be ordered around, but the man meant to be in the position of doing the ordering. Right before he had diablerized his sire, he had let him know that his soon to be death was in no small part due to the execution of Sebastian's ghoul. In his own small way he had loved her (as much as a vampire could care for another), and whether she had been a risk or not, he held the ancient belief that blood could only be paid with blood. It was only after he had torn open his master's neck and drained him dry, that he felt like a part of him had died or rather been replaced. He wasn't certain at the time if it was because of the sweet and powerful vitae that pumped through his veins, or if because he had lost a part of his humanity. Either way though, it was probably the grandest moment in his unlife so far and one that he would treasure forever and always. Ironic justice, cruel vengeance, inhuman ritual reserved only for beasts, what did it matter? His actions had granted him the power he craved and brought him the satisfaction he needed.

To make sure he would never forget his victory over his sire, he kept the same dagger he had used to finish his master on his desk at all times. If anyone knew of the disturbing secret behind that blade or worse yet what he had done to the Belgium Ventrue before he suffered his final death, the Camarilla would put him to death without so much as a fair trial. Diablerie was strictly forbidden tradition in the orderly organization, but LaCroix personally found this law to be ridiculous. Every vampire that belonged to the inner circle had probably engaged in diablerie at some point, so it seemed that the law was really meant to serve more as a prevention of more powerful Kindred rising up to challenge them. The entire lot was nothing more than a paranoid group of foolish ancients clinging to their bits of authority, all the while refusing to change their ways in order to adapt to a more modern society.

Well, sooner or later that was bound to change eventually. As long as Prince LA's plans continued to go the way he wanted, it would be him who would prove to them precisely how flawed their leadership was. They would either have to evolve and adapt, or die. It was as simple as that.

But none of these memories, worries, or thoughts were important right now. His dark deed would remain a mystery to all those besides himself and his Sheriff, who would remain loyal to him until one of them should cease to exist. It would be centuries before he would be able to hold council with the inner circle let alone join them, so it was really quite pointless to ponder. What he needed to attend now was the present issue at hand, and that was that the sun was due to rise any minute now.

Hauling his sleeping servant inside the Chalfonte apartment complex, he hit the elevator button and waited. No one was around, but he was beginning to get antsy none the less at the possibility of being seen. Eventually the doors opened and he rushed inside, only to have to wait longer for the elevator to arrive on the top floor. When it did, he quickly found her front door only to realize that it was locked up tight. Now what? He could kick the door in if needed, but surely there was a more intelligent method to handling the problem.

Glancing down at Valeska, he noticed she had pockets in her skirt. He hesitated digging his fingers into her clothing, as it seemed so…inappropriate, but it was better than getting physically violent with a blameless door. He stuck his hand into her right pocket, and then her left, and was happy to find a set of keys buried deep inside. Thank goodness she was dead asleep, for if she were to wake up to his fumbling hands that were getting a decent feel of her bottom, he would have some very awkward explaining to do indeed.

Opening the door he quickly set Valeska in her armchair and then rushed to close her curtains. As he did, he saw that over the other roof tops and on the Eastern horizon, was the first hint of morning rays shooting through the many layers of LA smog. He had accomplished everything literally right before the situation could have gotten hazardous to his health. Hopefully he wouldn't have to outrun the sun again for quite a while.

Turning around, he took a brief moment to get a hold on his surroundings. So this is where his ghoul lived? Funny how the pictures he had obtained of her place made it appear much larger than what it actually was. The small living space would be lucky if it was bigger than his office or even the guest bedroom of his penthouse that was rarely used. It was almost sad to see how she lived, but he supposed that not everyone could live in the lap of luxury like he did. At least she kept the place neat and orderly; it would make his short stay more comfortable.

But where on earth was her bed? Did she even have one or did she simply sleep on the sofa? There was only one other room in the apartment which he could only assume contained her bathroom. He didn't check to see if his theory was accurate, but he doubted that she ran to her neighbors whenever she needed to use the toilet or shower. While he really did not want to have to sleep on a couch, he knew it was better than bursting into flames outside or sleeping in the dirt like his Sheriff. The Nagloper clan might have to take sanctuary in the ground once a day for health purposes, but the Ventrue did not.

Walking over to Valeska's sofa, he sat upon it only to immediately find that it was highly uncomfortable. Was this really where she slept? How could she handle resting night after night on something that felt as though it were carved out of solid rock? Standing up he noticed a tiny piece of fabric sticking out of the cushions. Feeling curious he pulled it and was startled when the couch jumped out suddenly to unfold into a bed. If it weren't for his vampiric reflexes he probably would have had his face smashed in by the damn thing that seemed loaded like a gun waiting to spring out at unsuspecting victims. At least he had a bed now though.

Slipping off his shoes, tie, and jacket, he shot a final glance at his ghoul whose chest was rising and falling gently. She looked uncomfortable herself, so with a sigh of annoyance the Prince brought a blanket from her bed so that he could cover her. Afterwards, he slid under the futon's sheets, when the idea of sharing the bed entered his mind; quickly and violently though he shot it down. He wasn't even sure why the notion had popped up, but it was absurdly ridiculous and should never have ever been thought of. She was nothing more than a lowly ghoul while he was the Prince of LA and CEO of the LaCroix Foundation. He should be sleeping with sheets of satin and the finest down feather filled pillows. Instead he had to deal with this lumpy mattress whose springs dug painfully into his body and blankets that made the few exposed areas of his white skin rather itchy.

If Valeska dared to fight against him upon awakening with his choice of taking her bed, then she had another thing coming. He had just finished hauling her half way across town, and then was being forced (at the possible risk of his reputation) to sleep in a trashy environment. She had better recognize his sacrifices, but if she failed to do so then he would have no problem enlightening her and putting her back in her place. Besides she meant nothing to him anyway. The only special thing about her was her blood and that was it. Somehow though, it seemed that the more he mentally told himself that, the more he came to the realization that he was trying to manipulate himself into believing his words rather than contemplate idle imaginings. Surely someone as low on the social class as she was would be unimportant to him…right?

Flipping onto his side to gaze at his Valeska's slumbering form, he found that despite his physical discomfort, he was feeling oddly relaxed. She looked so peaceful with her calm breathing and gently fluttering eyelids. No doubt she was having a dream of some kind, and for some reason he wondered if she ever dreamt of him. Feeling angry he flipped back over. He need not be engaging in the creepy custom of observing someone sleep, nor did he need to be developing any kind of fascination toward his ghoul. He repeated the words in his mind that she was insignificant to him, but as his eyes closed, he became aware of her lingering aroma that seemed to infest the pillows his head rested on. It was a unique scent, a beautiful scent, and one he didn't mind at all falling asleep to…

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**Author's Note: **I think this may just be my favorite chapter yet, as it seems to have a bit of everything: humor, romance, mystery, drama, implied action, etc. Sebastian LaCroix is such an utterly fascinating individual, and having the opportunity to flesh his character's history out even more is very enjoyable for me. Hopefully the extra back story I added in didn't seem too out of character for the Prince, but based on the way he was in Bloodlines I truly believed he has engaged in diablerie before. With how he acted with the sarcophagus to me practically screamed that he wanted to devour any vampire inside, and yet he not once seemed conflicted with his desires to do so hinting at the possibility that he done it before. Once again, all of this is implied but I went off my own assumptions for this chapter. I also wanted to add in higher amounts of conflict with how LaCroix feels toward Val, so I hopefully I succeeded in doing this! Anyway, the next chapter will be back through Valeska's POV and I'm sure everyone will be dying to figure out how she will react to finding the Prince sleeping in her bed. Well, stay tuned and find out! =) Once again I hope you enjoyed this chapter and whether you did or not, drop a review and let me know so that I may improve!


	16. An Unfortunate Update to the Fans

Hey everyone! Unfortunately my computer decided to wipe over half my hard drive following a Window's Update. I lost all my school stuff, all my writing, and a bunch of other stuff too. As of right now due to roommate drama, school, health issues etc, my usual 2 - 3 days update will be delayed significantly until I get things back in order. I'm terribly sorry, and hopefully I can get everything back up and running soon! Thank you for your patience and understanding. :)

P.S: I had to re-upload this update because some fans really wanted to review the real Chapter 16, but couldn't because they already dropped a review for well wishes for computer and such. So to those who really wanted to drop their review, click ahead and knock yourself out! lol


	17. Protective Prince

**Author's Note: **Hey everyone! I know it's been awhile since my last update, but since I deleted my last author's note I shall inform those who aren't yet aware of what happened. My computer finally decided to join the Anarchs in rebelling against me and thus wiped half my hard drive in a display of power against the Camarilla (not really but you get my point). I not only had to rewrite this entire chapter, but a project I was working on for school. Several rage filled tantrums later I got everything back in working order, so I now present to you, Chapter 16 which is actually quite long. I took quite a few risks with this one in particular, as the Prince may or may not be (depending on your perspective) out of character towards the end. I'll explain my reasoning for doing so at the end, but hopefully you will enjoy it!

**Special Thanks: **Thank you, thank you, a million times thank you to Sasha Naruto, Sof, aberdeenkev, rednightmare, and myobsidianbutterfly! All of you have been so supportive and understanding that I wish there was some way to convey how appreciate I am to you all. For now I shall settle in responding to some of your comments. =) To Sasha: Glad to see you're continuing to enjoy the story, is there anything you might suggest for improvements or ideas? To Sof: Yay I'm still spot on with LaCroix! He's fun to write to, but he also reminds me of why I would love to punch his face in. xD To aberdeenkev: A love triangle with Nines or Damsel would be quite interesting I will admit, but I'm hesitant to go through with it for a number of reasons. I think I might just implement something in the future with Nines that you will like though, so stay tuned! To rednightmare: I absolutely loved your review, and although we've been conversing through PM on ideas and the like I want to say thank you again! Every bit of info you gave was incredibly useful. To myobsidianbutterfly: A new reviewer, awesome! I'm very pleased to hear of your delight in my fanfic, and I can assure you that as long as my school isn't too demanding, updates will continue as usual. *hugs* ^_^

**Disclaimer: **I own none of ze characters other than ze ones that own to moi. Yes that was a poor imitation brought to you by your half crazed author. =P

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**Chapter 16 Protective Prince **

From the very moment Valeska opened her eyes, she knew it was going to be a good day. Emotionally she felt hopeful about the direction of her life, and mentally she had no worries clouding her mind whatsoever. Even better, was that for the first time in weeks she was physically well rested. She had suffered no violent or disturbing nightmares, and in fact had only dream involving a quaint tea party with Gary Golden and her Ventrue Prince. More than a little odd, but vastly refreshing to the night terrors she had all but grown used to.

However, there was just one problem: she had absolutely no memory of how she had gotten back to her apartment. The last thing she remembered was being apprehensive about drinking from LaCroix's wrist, entering her happy place upon sampling his blood, and then falling into a deep blissful sleep. Had she slept walk to her apartment complex or had someone taken her home?

Sitting up straight, she became aware of two rather unusual things. The first was that she had been sleeping in her armchair which was strange in of itself because she rarely sat in it. If someone had dropped her off at her studio, it was possible that they didn't know her sofa turned into a bed. Still, why they wouldn't have just laid her out on the couch didn't make sense to her. Whatever the reasoning for why she was in it though, she was at least able to attribute her unbelievably sore neck to the uncomfortable piece of furniture.

The next thing she noticed was that her surroundings were very dark and fuzzy. She knew that her blurred vision was due to her lack of eyeglasses, and whether she had taken them off herself or someone else had, it wasn't too terribly abnormal for that to be. As to why everything was shrouded in shadow though, she could only guess it was because her curtains had probably been closed. For her that was quite bizarre as she tended to keep them open, so at this point the evidence that she had been escorted home was overwhelming.

Deciding that she wasn't going to find out anything by sitting in the dark, she stood up and began to blindly grasp around her in search of her glasses. She knew she probably looked a lot like Velma from _Scooby Doo_, but this comical idea did nothing to make her feel better about being a blind bat. As she fumbled about, she stopped dead in her tracks when she heard a soft snore. Apparently, unless her ears were deceiving her, someone else was present with her in the room.

"Is someone ther-" Before she even got the chance to finish her sentence, she found herself tripping over a pair of shoes that she knew without a doubt, did not belong to her. While her studio was small, she did catch a bit of air before ultimately landing on the end of her bed that she realized with unease, had something in it. With the combined effort of focused squinting and investigative hands, she recognized that what she was lying on top of was a pair of legs that had to have belonged to the mysterious snoring stranger.

"Uuugh…what on earth are you doing, Miss Latimer…?" a groggy yet familiar male voice asked. Without having to think twice, she swiftly removed herself from the man who she prayed was not who she thought it was.

"I woke up, and it was dark so I couldn't see, and then I tripped on some shoes or something, and now I can't find my glasses," she blabbered out nervously like a chattering monkey. She was so concerned with explaining her actions that her words had unintentionally come out as more of a jumbled mess than a well formed sentence.

She heard an irritated sigh and then the creaking of the bed as her guest switched on a lamp. Unprepared for the amount of light that hit her eyes, it unfortunately resulted in further blindness for Valeska who closed her eyes in a feeble attempt to protect her retinas. Another creak of the bed as the man moved forward to prod her upper arm with a hard object: her glasses. After blinking back the intense light, she slowly slid them onto her face to see that the man she had fallen onto, once again, was none other than Sebastian LaCroix.

She hadn't intended to jump back and let out a shriek, but that was exactly what she did. It was dramatic and unnecessary, but the last person she had expected to be occupying her bed was her boss. Her actions though caused the Prince to scramble out of her bed as if it had turned into boiling lava when he wasn't watching. He looked so odd, almost boyish, with his wrinkled clothing, messy bed head, and tired yet wide eyes full of shock. If the situation had been different she would have been eyeing him up and down, but she was far too distressed to care.

"What are you doing in my apartment? No wait, scratch that! What the hell were you doing in my bed?!" she demanded angrily. Before the Prince could even respond, her anger gave way to fear as a new theory entered her mind. "Wait…we didn't…oh god!"

Immediately her hands went to her head which was still trying to process what was going on. She didn't want to believe that she had spent the night with a vampire, but what made it really bad for her was that she couldn't recall a single detail about what they might have done. It would figure that she would fanaticize about the man for two weeks, get the chance to sleep with him, but then in return everything they had done in between the sheets would remain exactly that, a fantasy lost in the dark spaces of her mind.

"Excuse me? Of course not!" Prince LA exclaimed in astonishment, "Do you actually think I would sink so low as to spend the night with someone like _you_?" The amount of disgust combined with the harsh jab of his index finger hurt her more than she thought it would. Was she really that repulsive to him?

"Well I don't know!" she cried in exasperation. "I mean, it wouldn't be the first time this has happened to me." The more she thought about it though, the less her assumption made any sense. Disregarding her neck, she wasn't sore anywhere like she usually had been after her few encounters with the opposite sex. Additionally she was still wearing all her clothes (including her shoes) and the two of them had been sleeping on separate pieces of furniture. If she actually was wrong about this, the situation was going to get real awkward, real fast.

"Then allow me to enlighten you, Miss Latimer," he began with crossed arms, obviously still irritated, "I will never, EVER, engage in sexual intercourse with an employee, and especially not one who is my ghoul on top of that."

"Why are you here then?" Valeska questioned with suspicion. "According to you I'm the equivalent of a Hagraven from Skyrim, so I see no reason for you wanting to be here." She was probably making the situation worse, and especially by talking about video games he probably had no knowledge of, but she may as well find out why he felt the need to spend the night anyway.

"Hagraven…wha? Miss Latimer I have not a single clue at what you are insinuating, but I am here, because someone is unable to hold their vampire blood," LaCroix explained coolly while narrowing his eyes, "I was attempting to do you a favor when you prematurely fell unconscious by returning you to your studio. In the process however, I got caught with a rising sun situation."

"Oh…" Now she just felt bad. Here the Prince was, trying to be a gentleman by making sure she got home soundly, and she was accusing him of sleeping with her. Whether he had known about where his actions might lead him or not, he had sacrificed the comforts he was accustomed to and had been forced to sleep on her bed which she knew was not the best in the world. His actions had probably been done out of concern for her safety, and how was she returning the favor? By acting like an ungrateful bitch, that's how.

"Believe me when I say that if I had any other choice, I would have joyfully taken it over residing in this slum," the Ventrue spat out, destroying any form of guilt she might have been feeling. She was not a rich CEO like him, so of course she wasn't going to have some huge luxury apartment. The fact that he was rubbing this in her face was both rude and immature. Also, she kept her place quite clean and organized because of her neat freak tendencies, so why he was calling it a slum she wasn't able to comprehend.

"For what it's worth, I'm really sorry. I guess I jumped the gun before with my accusations when there was no evidence to support them," Valeska apologized biting back her annoyance from his insults. "I certainly appreciate what you did though and I recognize your sacrifice…so thank you." She knew that if she didn't get this out of the way, the two of them would probably spend the next few hours arguing about pointless things until he snapped all together and fired her. Knowing his personality, he sure as hell wasn't going to back down so it was up to her to be the one to wave the white flag before the situation got out of hand.

"Apology accepted," Prince LA acknowledged before turning to pick up his coat, tie, and shoes. "Now, what time is it?"

"Huh?" she asked with a bit of surprise. She had half expected him to give her a criticizing speech on the importance of being careful with her allegations, but his simple acceptance and question had thrown her for a loop.

"What-time-is-it?" he repeated with frustration while staring at her like she was an idiot.

"Oh uhm…quarter to six," she answered after glancing at her clock.

"Then I'm using your shower," the pale Prince informed his ghoul. It was not a request, but a statement, and far be it from her at this point to deny him from taking a shower. Walking past her, he entered the bathroom and slammed its respective door behind him. Once again she found herself wondering what was up with his hatred toward seemingly innocent doors. It seemed that every time she was around him, he was abusing one. There was no rational reason to do it since it wasn't going to solve his problems, yet he continued to do it. Oh well, no one ever said that a picky pompous Prince had to make any sense.

Once she heard the shower water turn on, she walked to her dresser in order to begin her search for a new outfit to wear. While she absent mindedly dug through her drawers, she couldn't help daydreaming about what her boss might look like in the shower. With the warm water running down his naked pale body while he lathered his body in a layer of foamy soap… followed by her walking in to join him so of course he would be so pleased that he would lean in and…oh god, why was she thinking such thoughts?! It seemed that lately her conflicted feelings toward her boss were getting harder and harder for her to deal with. One moment she wanted to pull him by his tie into a passionate kiss, and the next she wanted to strangle him with the same piece of attire. Yet she didn't understand why.

Grasping aimlessly for any ideas that might come to mind, she tried to determine exactly why she held such a high level of attraction toward her boss. Physically he was quite handsome, but normally such things didn't matter to her. On the average she usually went for someone with either a high level of intelligence (something she was horribly shallow about) or a caring yet sarcastic personality. While she was sure the Prince had some form of intellect, his personality was flat out terrible. He was discourteous, self-centered, materialistic, and obviously saw everyone around him as inferior. However, every once in a while he would do something that showed that he actually did have a good side to him. For example, he had taken it upon himself to take her home when he easily, as a Ventrue Prince, could have persuaded or ordered someone else to do it for him. It was odd for someone with his resources and disposition to do such a thing, but perhaps it was this same decency that occasionally shined through that made her want to like him. It was much easier to fall for a selfish man when the possibility of a gentle side being revealed to those he trusted was a possibility. Then again he had only recently showed that part of himself to her, so it didn't explain the past several weeks.

What else then did he have? Well, cold hard cash for one, but deep down inside she knew that money didn't even measure on her list for reasons to be attracted to another. Due to the way she was raised, she had learned both responsibility and the importance of independence at a young age. It was because of this that she strived so hard in everything she did, why she was such a perfectionist, and why no matter how hard a situation got, she would only accept assistance if she had no other choice. She wasn't sure if she was trying to prove something to those around her, but she wanted to make a name for herself, by herself. If she wanted something, she would find a way to get it. It was never that simple of course, but nothing about life ever was. In the end no matter how strongly she felt though, she couldn't just disregard the Prince's wealth since she needed to consider all variables.

The more she thought on the issue, the more she was convinced that she was forgetting something important. What else did the Prince have to offer that she couldn't acquire on her own? When it came to past relationships they were often initiated out of practicality not desire. Her potential mate had to have something that she did not, like the ability to emotionally support her. For the most part she tried (key word: tried) to control her emotions, but sometimes she simply needed to curl up into a man's arms to either cry or rant.

With that in mind, the only other thing she could think of that the Ventrue vampire had to offer was his blood. The previous night had made her feel like she was the most important person in the world, and the ecstasy from the small amount she had drank had made all manner of irrational thoughts run wild through her head. That for sure was a side effect of her tasty snack, but because she was still new to vampire society, she didn't have a full list of everything it could do. Could it cause the development of intense feelings? What about erotic daydreams? She couldn't be sure of anything at this point, but the memory of how forceful her boss had been in partaking of his blood caused her to feel both anxious and suspicious. He had to have an ulterior motive to making her do such a thing, but as for what it was she had no clue. Whether or not it was paranoia that was now clouding her head, she would be sure to fish for all the info on vampire blood she could get the next time she saw Mercurio.

Even if she unable quite able to pinpoint her reasoning for wanting to be with the pale Prince, she knew it didn't really matter. He had flat out told her that he would never initiate a relationship with an employee, and to be honest that's the way it should be. He gave her jobs, she completed them, and then she got paid; simple, convenient, and profitable for both parties. Anything more intimate would complicate their mutual partnership, so logically it was best to avoid the potential drama fest that would be a romantic relationship. If only that same logic could control her emotions.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Valeska tried to hold her hormones at bay. What she was experiencing was nothing more than the product of feverish emotions caused by her curious attraction to her undead boss. While these feelings were annoying, she knew that with a bit of effort she could control them. The easiest and fastest way to do this would be to distract herself with a new set of thoughts that centered around something humorous. For instance, while it wasn't _that_ funny, the fact that the Prince was going to have no choice but to use her womanly scented body wash sent her into a fit of laughter complete with a couple of dorky snorts. It was exactly what she needed to lighten her mood and more importantly it halted her sexual desires.

With her feelings under a better degree of control, she returned to her search for clothing. Deciding to not dress to impress, she picked out a low cut plum tank top and a pair of old blue jeans to match. Changing into her new attire, she moved more quickly than she normally would have due to her fear of the Prince accidently walking in on her. The two of them had already been through enough awkward situations to last a lifetime, so something like that would just be the cherry on top to an awful set of events.

As soon as she finished dressing, she heard the shower shut off. Hurriedly, she went to fold her bed back up into a sofa, while mentally taking note to wash the sheets later in order to rid them of LaCroix's cologne. After doing so, she sat down on the couch and turned on the TV in an attempt to act casual. The last thing she had been watching was some cheesy science fiction flick, but now on the screen was the _Fifth Element_. She wasn't sure how the picky Prince felt about the film (if he even knew of it), but it was one of her favorites so she could care less about his opinion on it.

Ten minutes passed when finally Sebastian LaCroix opened the bathroom door, letting out a massive amount of steam in the process. Besides his damp hair, he looked the same way he usually did, neat, professional, and confident. While his high level of self-assurance was alluring, it was a major let down since she had half hoped he would venture out wearing nothing but a towel. Oh what she wouldn't give to stop these unwanted visualizations.

"Your shower is out of hot water," the pale Prince told his ghoul nonchalantly. Oh that little…! She hadn't planned on taking a shower, but his selfish actions and lack of regret simply pissed her off. What made him think he was so important that he could get away with anything he wanted? Oh right…he was a filthy rich Ventrue Prince and CEO too. Well it didn't matter. Influence or not, it didn't give him the excuse not to use manners.

"Judging by how long you were in there, I'm not surprised," Valeska snapped, unable to cancel out the attitude in her words. She tried to focus her attention on the television screen, but she could practically feel the daggers that LaCroix was glaring in her direction.

"If you know what is good for you, Miss Latimer, you will revise your previous statement immediately," her boss threatened in a dark tone. Glancing back at him, she saw that in his angry eyes were the beginnings of storm clouds.

"Uhm…what I meant is to not worry about it since it happens to me all the time," she quickly corrected. "I know how relaxing a long hot shower or bath can be, but I think I need to have my landlord check the water heater since it's been faulty for a while." Right after she finished her sentence, her nervous habit of nibbling at her lip began, but luckily she managed to stop herself before it was too noticeable. As to why the Prince intimidated her, she couldn't be sure as he was neither a tall man nor a big one. Furthermore everything she had seen so far showed that he hired paid muscle to protect him since he was probably unable to defend himself. Then again, he WAS a creature of the night so not being fearful of him was decidedly unwise.

"Much better," the Ventrue said with a smug smirk that she loved to hate. There were two things that a man could do to make her want to jump their bones. The first was to a raise a single eyebrow in an inquisitive way, while the second one was the classic smirk. Both she found very sexy, and both she continuously saw the Prince doing every time they met.

Striding across the short distance of the studio, LaCroix sat down on the opposite side of the couch. As soon as he did though, Valeska instinctively brought her knees up to her chest in an almost protective manner. She didn't mean to do it, but her boss sure noticed.

"I am not going to harm you, Miss Latimer," he reassured with more than a bit of annoyance in his voice.

"I know that," she responded defensively while slowly lowering her legs to tuck them under her. "I'm just picky about the way I sit is all." She had no clue as to why she felt so uncomfortable all of a sudden or why she felt the need to lie, but at that moment she wanted nothing more than to get as far away as possible from the vampire sitting next to her. In fact the only thing preventing her from booking it out the front door was her willpower, but even that was dwindling away in the presence of the Prince. She had to come up with a reason for taking off and fast. The only idea she could think of was that she needed a dress for the upcoming dinner party. If she told her boss she was leaving because of that, surely he would understand if not be delighted that she was following his orders of the previous night. Before she even got the chance to say anything though, a loud knocking sounded at the front door.

"Were you expecting someone?" Sebastian LaCroix inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"No…but sometimes my neighbor, Heather, stops by for help on her mathematics homework," Valeska speculated slowly. Rising from the sofa she made her way to the front door. Rarely did the fashion student stop by so late in the evening as she was usually at a party, but anything was possible when it came to Heather needing assistance. Peering out through the peephole, she saw her landlord (who surprisingly appeared sober) smoking a cigarette and dressed in his usual dirty clothing. He wasn't wearing his baseball cap for once, so it gave the world a clear view of his shiny cranium and poorly combed over greasy hair. Cautiously she opened the door and prepared for the worst. "Yes?"

"Ahh Val, my favorite tenant! You're lookin' nice as always," her landlord complimented in his gruff voice. If it had been anyone else she would have seen the flattery as genuine, but since his eyes were focusing on her cleavage the entire time, she knew it wasn't.

"Did you need something?" she asked as politely as possible while crossing her arms protectively over her chest.

"Oh you know…nothin' major or anythin'…just the goddamn money you owe me!" he yelled before taking a puff of his cigarette and blowing it rudely in her face. Already being overly sensitive to smoke, her eyes immediately began to water while her lungs constricted making her feel like she might cough one of them up.

"I have your money, but please don't blow that thing in my face," she pleaded in between her painful coughs. "Smoke is very problematic in that it makes it hard for me to breathe properly." She didn't even care at this point if her boss was being able to observe every embarrassing aspect of the current situation. Her weakness to cigarette smoke, the fact that she was behind in her monthly payments, all meant nothing compared to how badly she wanted to be able to breathe clearly again.

"I need more than that. Six months up front right now or you spend that fine ass of yours with me tonight instead," he demanded, not bothering to listen to her request. Instead he actually smiled as he blew yet another mouthful of smoke in her direction.

"But I don't have that much money!" she exclaimed anxiously, still coughing. "And besides, my contract has me on a month to month basis, not a long term lease!"

"Well guess you know what that means then," her disgusting landlord hinted suggestively with a chuckle. Right as she felt like she might pass out or suffocate to death, she heard the Prince walk up from behind her. Gently he moved her aside so that he could march up to her landlord, rip the cigarette out of his mouth, and stamp it out with his shoe.

"I do believe Miss Latimer requested that you stop," LaCroix pointed out coolly. As startled as her landlord looked, it couldn't come anywhere close to describing how surprised Valeska was. She literally found herself incapable of believing her eyes, and instead was sure that the smoke had knocked her out which was what was causing this hallucinatory dream.

"And who the hell are you? Her boyfriend?" her landlord demanded angrily, getting up in his opponent's face. It was a poor attempt at intimidation and one that obviously failed to work since LaCroix didn't even budge an inch.

"No, I am her supervisor," the pale Prince responded in the same tone of voice.

"Riiiiiight…so this was the job you were talkin' about before Val? Sleepin' with your boss? Now that's just sad!" he teased cruelly with a laugh. Surprisingly, his statement seemed to offend LaCroix more than Valeska, as she noticed his fists clench up unexpectedly.

"Your opinion of Miss Latimer is both absurd and incorrect. Likewise, my visit here is to conduct professional affairs with her and nothing beyond that," the Ventrue explained as calmly as he could, "Now I suggest you turn around before I have my employee file a sexual harassment case against your inappropriate proposition." Valeska pretty much had no choice at that point; she had to pinch herself and not figuratively either. Sadly, the only thing that did was hurt her arm and prove that this was actually happening. Hell must have frozen over because standing right in front of her was Sebastian LaCroix defending her honor.

"Look, I couldn't give two shits if you two smothered each other in tar and chicken feathers. All I want is to get paid, so either this bitch here coughs up the cash or her pimp does," the beady eyed landlord declared not ceasing his offensive insults for a second.

"If you had even the slightest inkling of the laws that govern the relations between a tenant and their landlord, you would know that your poor attempt at extortion is illegal. Now, I am only going to repeat myself once more: turn around before this becomes an issue," LaCroix ordered in a low tone.

"Who the fuck do you thi-" Valeska's idiotic landlord might have gotten the chance to finish his question if he hadn't jabbed LaCroix square in the chest with his index finger. Maybe it was out anger or maybe it was instinct, but the Prince reacted by grabbing the landlord's wrist, bending it backward, and then twisting the same arm behind the landlord's back so that he could more easily be slammed into a nearby wall.

"I gave you more than ample opportunity to walk away, but like a fool you turned down my offer not once but twice," the Ventrue told the terrified landlord in an eerily calm voice.

"I'm sorry, just let go of my arm please!" he begged pitifully. Rather than be merciful and heed his request, LaCroix bent his arm back further causing several more cries of pain. On any normal occasion, Valeska might have challenged her boss, but her landlord deserved every ounce of pain that he was receiving. In fact, if her superior thought it necessary to start torturing the man, she would have no conflict in grabbing a bag of popcorn to watch. What could she say? Karma was a bitch like that.

"You beg for mercy when you granted Miss Latimer none," the Prince reminded before flipping him around to face Valeska, "So apologize to her instead of me."

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry Val!" he feverishly apologized with a set of pleading eyes; ironically enough this moment of humiliation for her landlord made him appear almost human. If only such things could make her feel pity towards a man like him.

"Good. Now then," LaCroix began before putting the landlord back against the wall by his neck. "Your 'favorite' tenant as you labeled her, just paid you six months in advance, understood?"

"Yes of course, six free months of rent, got it!" the desperate landlord accepted.

"Seek assistance from the authorities in this matter and I shall expose you for the scum that you are. You will be left with nothing more than the streets to call your home and its beggars to be the only ones to stand your company. Now, forget my face and get out of my sight," Valeska's boss commanded before throwing his victim to the ground. She was sure she felt the same wave of energy she had experienced weeks ago when in the hands of the Sabbat, but she couldn't be sure. Whatever the case, her landlord was absolutely petrified. If he did squeal to the police, she had no doubt that LaCroix would utilize his resources to make her landlord's life a living hell and then ultimately, destroy it entirely.

"You don't have to worry about a thing, I'll stay 100% quiet, don't you worry!" the landlord promised before scrambling up off the ground and rushing to the elevators. While repeatedly pushing the button, he kept throwing anxious glances at LaCroix who simply stood there, still as a statue staring him down. Once the doors opened he rushed inside and disappeared from the pair's view.

Walking back into Valeska's apartment, LaCroix casually closed her front door and then returned to where he was sitting on her sofa as if nothing had happened. Normally she might have observed the fact that for the first time in her presence, he had not slammed a door for once, or even that he actually appeared quite content (a rare event indeed). However, after what had just happened, there was only one question in her mind.

"Why did you do that?" Valeska quietly asked. Looking up from the television, which had been changed to the local politics channel, the Ventrue vampire stared at her as if she had asked the world's stupidest question.

"You are my employee, Miss Latimer," he told his ghoul flatly, "I protect my investments no matter who or what they might be, and in this case having you living on the streets would be beneficial to neither of us."

"Yeah…that makes sense," she agreed slowly, still in a partial state of disbelief. She didn't move to her seat, or do anything really; she just stood there looking dumbfounded.

"Did I do something to offend you then?" her boss questioned with a hint of frustration in his voice.

"No!" she clarified quickly, "It's just…not once has someone ever done something like that for me before…" Her words, while painful to admit, were true. Throughout most of her time spent in school, she had been heavily bullied and not once had anyone ever defended her. The long years of being tripped, books being stolen, harsh insults on her downfalls or lack of parents, and time spent crying alone in the back of the library stung at her memory like an infected wound. It made her stronger as a person, but it had also caused the development of her paranoia which made her pretty much incapable of expecting anything less of betrayal from another.

"My actions were done out of practicality and nothing personal, so please refrain yourself from reading too far into them," LaCroix requested looking her dead in the eyes. Whether he was telling the truth or not, and with him she could never be sure, she was still very grateful.

"Okay, but a moment ago you got me six months of rent free all while scaring the shit out of my landlord. That's not something I'm going to forget," Valeska assured with a small appreciate smile.

"Well I believed it necessary to demonstrate exactly how a true extortionist should behave," her boss justified, "Furthermore that pitiful excuse for a man had the audacity to challenge my authority so naturally I put him in his rightful place."

"I definitely think you succeeded in that endeavor then. I mean, did you see his face? He looked like he was going to start crying like a little girl!" she joked while walking over to the sofa to sit next to the Prince. "So uhm…good job, sir" She sent him another friendly smile which he surprisingly returned.

"So glad to see you approve, Miss Latimer, but now back down to business," he announced, returning to his usual serious tone of voice and facial expressions. "As my ghoul I need you up to date on all the political dealings of both humans and vampires so this channel…" He pointed at the screen. "Is what you will watch from here on out. While the media is not necessarily reliable, it is useful for determining any rumors that might be floating around."

"Yes, sir," Valeska said feeling partially let down. The two of them had experienced a moment, and though it had been a small one, it was nice to connect every once in a while with the man who held control over almost every aspect of her life. However, it was obvious he didn't feel the same way since he had snapped back into CEO mode rather quickly. Well it wasn't like she could complain as he had not only gotten her out of hot water, but even turned the situation towards their favor. She still didn't trust him, but if she could come to expect this kind of thing from him all the time, than she would be more than happy in continuing to serve he she could now accept, as her master.

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**Author's Note: **So, as I said before I took a risk with making LaCroix do what he did in this chapter. I felt like it might have been an out of character moment for him, but I wanted to use the chance to show both a more intimidating Prince, but one who was protective too. I'm leaving it up to the reader for now to determine whether his actions really were done out of practicality as he said, or if there is a more intimate reason behind them. This is meant to be a romance after all, so eventually I needed to take the plunge into one. Go easy on me though, this is my first romance story! At the urging of rednightmare, I'm also attempting to take more risks with Valeska's character as she can tend to be a bit dull with her dialogue. Whether or not you liked this chapter, let me know. I love getting feedback from my readers and am always willing to improve my writing via constructive criticism or ideas. Thanks again everyone, and let's hope the next chapter (which will contain Mercurio's back story) won't be as delayed!


	18. Motherly Mercurio

**Author's Note:** Alright now I know this chapter has been delayed longer than the usual every 2-3 day release, but school has really been kicking my ass as of late with of how much work involved. I need to remind myself to stop taking accelerated courses, because even though the work is easy, there is way too much it. Anyway, this chapter was also delayed because it turned out to be a bit too long with having 10,000 words compared to the max I like to release which is around 6,000. I only decided today to cut this one in half (putting Mercurio's back story in the next chapter) which would allow me to catch up on my writing and school too. This chapter is a bit all over the place in my opinion since I was rushing to release it while trying to develop a bit more spunk for Valeska's character. As always I apologize for any poor editing and hope that you continue to enjoy the story!

**Special Thanks: **Thank you to all my readers and reviewers for your continuous support! I would hug you all if I could, but physically speaking it's quite impossible. Instead, here are some ehugs, now be happy! =P To Sasha Naruto: I actually never thought about that aspect, but you're right. LaCroix is technically from an age where women were supposed to be protected, so I guess it does work into the story rather well! To aberdeenkev: Love is very blind, you're definitely right in saying that my friend! To Sof: I am very happy to hear you loved the last chapter and how LaCroix was portrayed! Hearing that my writing is good is nice, but hearing that my intended comedy brought forth giggles is even better. ^_^

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except my own OC's.

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**Chapter 17 Motherly Mercurio **

For the next hour or so, Valeska sat listening to her in boss prattle on about vampire politics, the major power players in California, and the proper way, as a ghoul, to behave in their presences. Some of it was mildly interesting since she was going to be meeting many of these personages tomorrow at the Malkavian dinner party. However for the most part, the Prince made her want to pull her hair out in frustration with how tedious he was being. The material was already dry enough without having a man who liked the sound of his own voice repeating every other word as though she were a five year old. Additionally it was quite awkward as well as difficult for her to try and keep a straight face on some of his opinions of the other Primogen. It wasn't that he was attempting to be amusing, but if Valeska were to compile all the negativity and comparison examples he had expressed, she would have one heck of a vampire standup routine.

"Am I boring you, Miss Latimer?" LaCroix questioned with crossed arms. Currently he was standing up so that he could pace her studio in order to 'think better', but because of this it also allowed him to easily glare down his nose at her.

"No, of course not, sir! I simply didn't sleep well is all," she lied quickly. She had slept perfectly fine, but if she told the Prince the truth in that he was about as exciting as watching grass grow, he probably wouldn't take it well. At least when she discussed politics with Mercurio, he made it fun and treated her like a human being rather than the scourge of the Earth.

"And why not?" the pale Prince demanded, sounding almost offended.

"I tend to suffer from nightmares," Valeska confessed which was definitely the truth. "Too many bad memories plaguing my subconscious I guess."

"I see. I suppose I can relate to the latter," he murmured so quietly that she could barely make out a word he had uttered.

"Not trying to be rude here, but I didn't catch a single word with what you just said," she informed her boss.

"How disappointedly unsurprising that is. Now as I was sayi-". The ringing of LaCroix's phone prevented him from finishing his sentence as he immediately reached into his coat pocket to answer it. "Sebastian LaCroix speaking." A short pause. "Very well, I shall be there momentarily." With that, the phone was closed and the short conversation ended.

"Are you leaving?" the Prince's ghoul inquired with an edge of desperation to her voice. She hated to admit it but for some reason she didn't want her master to leave her apartment yet. As to why that was she wasn't entirely sure since only moments ago she was mentally complaining about how boring he was being. It seemed though that no matter what the Prince was ranting about, his overall presence and eloquent voice made his company quite enjoyable to her. Then again, it could have simply been because she had the hots for him.

"My chauffeur arrived so yes," the Ventrue replied, "I believe you have all the required information needed for tomorrow's gathering, but while unlikely, I could be wrong. Were there any questions you had?"

"Yes actually. You told me to get a dress…anything in particular you wanted to see me in?" Valeska asked. It was a simple question which should have had a simple answer, but her boss chose to see her words in a more personal light.

"Miss Latimer, I do not wish to see _you_ in anything," LaCroix began defensively before his ghoul interrupted him with her poorly stifled snickering. "Did I say something to amuse you?"

"So you would rather I show up nude, sir?" she teased, not able to hold back her laughter anymore. Normally she would never in a million years be as confident in asking what she just asked, but she couldn't help it; it just sort of fell out.

"What? No! Must you be so childish by manipulating my words?" the pale Prince questioned in a belittling and exasperated tone. "What I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted, is that any evening gown you choose should be meant for formal events only and not in any way hold the intention of being aesthetically pleasing to my eye. However, the Camarilla can be quite harsh in its judgment of the company its leaders keep, so I implore you to not destroy my reputation by choosing something that would make you look like the drudge of society."

"Sir, forgive me, but I'm not an idiot. I'm not going to show up dressed like a prostitute or on the far end of the spectrum, a princess in a top hat," Valeska explained as confidently as she could, even going as far as to stand up in order to match his height better. Once again she had no idea where this self-assurance was coming from, but she might as well go with it. "I was merely trying to make a joke, so please stop treating me like my IQ barely rivals that of Forrest Gump's."

"Because clearly in your eyes I should be returning your immaturity with respect and civility," her boss snapped, narrowing his eyes. "No, Miss Latimer, you are my ghoul and I shall treat you however I feel necessary based on your conduct. Now, I have much work still left to attend to in preparation for tomorrow evening, so I've neither the time nor patience to deal with your juvenile behavior. For your sake I hope that your attitude fares better the next time we meet, good evening." With a final sneer he turned and left her studio apartment, angrily slamming the door behind him in his usual display of antagonism.

"Selfish, arrogant, asshole Prince!" she shouted furiously after him, not even caring if he heard her. Even if he was already in the elevator, she knew he would have due to his superior vampiric senses, but frankly she didn't give a damn. If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was someone insulting her intelligence. Had her boss deemed it necessary to offend her in some other way, say by targeting her physical appearance, then the result would not have been nearly as anger provoking. For more than half of her life she had been targeted as a nerd, but she was fine with that because she had learned to accept it as part of her personality. Attacking her mental aptitude was like attacking the very person she had developed into.

Logically, she knew it would have been better if she had waited until after the Prince had left the building completely to throw her insults, but it was too late now. While her choice of words had been dangerously stupid, it was her only method of blowing off steam. Well, technically it wasn't her only method, but she might as well utilize that now since her master was gone. Picking up her home phone, which was one of the few left in the world still possessing a cord, she dialed Mercurio's number. On the other end she heard one ring, and then two, until finally the familiar voice of the ghoul with the New York accent could be heard.

"Heya Val, how's it goin'?" Mercurio greeted in his usual friendly manner. In the background she could hear gunshots and police sirens, but judging by how cheerful Mercurio was, she doubted he was literally in a warzone. More than likely he was watching some thrilling action sequence in a movie or something similar.

"Hey…I know we're not set to meet again for a few days and you probably weren't expecting this call, but I need a… well a friend to rant to," Valeska admitted while twirling the phone cord in between her fingers as she usually did when talking with another, "LaCroix spent the night or well day in this case at my apartment and…"

"Whoa now, back it up kiddo! What was the main man doin' sleepin' there in the first place?" the ghoul on the other end asked with more than a bit of disbelief in his voice.

"Now you know how I felt when I woke up with no memory of what happened!" Valeska exclaimed before she realized just how bad that sounded. Resisting the urge to do a face palm, she continued. "Look, long story short: I drank his blood, passed out, and then he took me home. Apparently the sun came up so he decided to spend the night, but nothing happened between us."

"That's uh…kinda weird Val. There's only like five dozen vampires in the city o' LA alone, an' near your place I can name least three off the top of my head that would be dyin' to help out a Prince, eh so to speak," Mercurio informed her, "Plus I've been workin' for LaCroix for a long ass time now, an' I've never heard o' him doin' anythin' like this…"

"Then you can understand why I'm so confused. He did a lot of other weird stuff when he was here too and I really don't know what to do anymore," she declared, massaging the left temple of her skull which was quickly developing a tension headache.

"Sounds like a long story, ya mind if I swing by your place? It really does sound like ya need a friend…or a punchin' bag, never sure when it comes to you," he offered in a teasing tone.

"Oh ha-ha very funny," she said with a laugh. He was of course referring to their last meeting in which she accidently smacked him in the face while serving him a glass of water. She could be such a klutz sometimes, but at least Mercurio was more forgiving and willing to make a joke out of her mistakes unlike her master. "I'd love to have you over, but I need to pick up a dress for some fancy Malkavian dinner party tomorrow."

"Lemme guess, Aleister Grout..? Ahh but who am I kiddin', o' course it's him! Boy are you in for it kiddo cuz I've been to enough of those events to know they're friggin' insane," Mercurio explained, "But hey, long as you're headin' out how's bout I pick you up? It's not like you have a car an' I'm pretty sure you could use someone who knows vampire fashion backwards and forwards."

"Well as long as you're okay with it then I could definitely use a second pair of eyes. I already hate shopping as is, and I get a double negative added to that since I tend to fail epically with my choice in style," Valeska confessed.

"Well I'll never claim to be a Toreador, but I think I might be able to help ya out," he assured making her smile. He was always so willing to bend over backwards to assist her no matter what the problem was. At first her paranoia had gotten the better of her and she had sat alone for nearly an hour generating reasons for why he was so supportive. Sadly she hadn't really been able to come up with anything or at least anything she could comprehend. Her self-confidence was much too low, so the possibility of someone doing something nice for her just because they could was not something she could accept easily. However, no matter how hard she tried, Mercurio made it damn near impossible for her_ not_ to trust him. Sure he was rough around the edges and a bit of an opportunistic scoundrel at times, but deep down he was a good man that she could stand behind or in this case, next to.

"Mercurio, you're a life saver," Valeska complimented with a small laugh.

"Only on Tuesdays an' Thursdays kiddo, be over in ten," Mercurio said before hanging up. Putting her phone down she wondered where the two of them would be going. It was almost eight, so most places would be either closed or would be in an hour or two. Then again, if anyone knew the ins and outs of businesses in California, it was Mercurio, so she was in good hands.

About ten minutes later (give or take a few), she heard a solid knock on her front door. Grabbing up her purse which had the thick wad of cash she had received from LaCroix, she went to the door and opened it. As expected, it was Mercurio on the other side who gave her a warm smile. Compared to his usual attire, he was dressed rather casually with a light blue open collared shirt, tan khaki shorts, and sandals. In a way, he looked like he was ready for a day at the beach rather than dress shopping.

After exchanging the proper greetings demanded in the laws of friendship, the two of them left the apartment complex and got into Mercurio's black car. While Valeska took pride in her wide knowledge of different topics, she honestly had little to no experience in differentiating one vehicle from the next. Now was no different in that she had no absolutely no idea what kind of car she was sitting in. It could have been a Cadillac, or it could have been something completely different. However, for the same reason for why she knew little information about automobiles, it was because she didn't care to ask or learn about them.

"So where are we going?" Valeska investigated. Since she had gotten permission, she was currently fiddling with the radio knobs in order to change the station to one that was more enjoyable.

"Gotta few associates down at Santa Monica Mall that give me discounts on my suits an' such. Figured we could hit a few of the places up before it closes at 10," Mercurio answered. "Maybe even grab a burger or somethin' cuz I'm friggin' starvin'."

"Sounds like a plan," Valeska approved, still messing around with the radio. "And maybe some milkshakes too? I lurve milkshakes."

"Fine by me, but uh…I know I gave ya the go-ahead for the radio, but kinda distractin' with you changin' it every two seconds…" her mentor mumbled quietly to the ghoul sitting next to him.

"Oh, sorry!" she apologized quickly while immediately retracting her hands from the control panel of various buttons. "It's another one of my bad habits, but I just _really_ hate radio commercials…probably because they're insulting."

"How so?" Mercurio asked with a confused expression. "I think some o' them can be downright hilarious."

"It's hard to explain…it's like their marketing techniques are carried out so poorly through stereotypes and assumptions that it makes me want to avoid buying their product all together," Valeska explained with a slight bit of disgust brought on by past memories. "I guess I feel like I could do a better job too." She shrugged and glanced out the window, hoping that she didn't offend Mercurio with her opinion.

"Probably, but you gotta remember that in today's age of misfits an' dumbasses, stupidity is seen almost as a good thing versus bein' clever. It's why the net is packed with videos o' jokers tryin' to be funny by breakin' their bones an' why five year olds are runnin' round with cellphones," Mercurio pointed out.

"It's also why repetitiveness seems to be respected over creativity and ingenuity in the working industry," Valeska added with a frustrated sigh, "It's almost depressing."

"Let's be honest though Val, it does make it easier for delinquents like us to operate on the fringes of society when everyone else is busy bein' oblivious, am I right?" he asked with an encouraging smile.

"That's one way to look at it," she replied with a laugh. She wanted to continue sharing a few of her other philosophical opinions on the world and its society, but she bit her tongue. Her views tended to be seen as extreme or incredibly harsh by others. While she was sure Mercurio probably would have been able to handle it, there was the possibility her words could elicit an argumentative response from her mentor. Right now he was the only supportive friend she had that she could communicate with face to face and on a daily basis if need be, so she didn't want to risk losing that.

For the rest of their trip, Valeska made good use of their time by changing the topic to that which had brought them together in the first place: LaCroix. She told him everything that had occurred during the past couple of days between herself and the Prince, and also made sure to include all the things he had done that she considered odd. Their conversation continued even after they had arrived at Santa Monica Mall, which in Valeska's eyes was a run-down dump complete with a handful of beach bums and undesirables. She had only been in the general area of Santa Monica once or twice, and like before, she came to the realization that it was not her kind of city. The air smelled kind of funny due to the Pacific Ocean, nearly everyone gave her a bad vibe, and something made her feel like she stuck out like a sore thumb which was probably because she didn't wear the same attire that the locals seemed to love.

Valeska had never been to this mall specifically, but while her initial assumption of the structure had been negative, it really wasn't that bad of a place. In fact, besides a few late night stragglers, the pair of ghouls nearly had the whole area to themselves which allowed them a higher degree of privacy in their openness of conversations. Currently Valeska was trying on a handful of different dresses, all of which Mercurio had recommended due to his experience in knowing what was 'hot' in vampire society. The two of them were also still discussing the Prince, but no matter how hard she tried, Valeska couldn't stop bad talking her boss. Gossiping about someone behind their back was never a polite thing to do, but it felt good for her to be able to talk freely with a friend who wouldn't punish her for outrageous name-calling behavior. In fact for the most part he remained silent while only throwing in a few chuckles here or there

"Lemme ask you somethin' Val an' don't be offended okay?" Mercurio asked from the other side of the dressing room. He was still waiting for her to walk out after each dress that she tried on, but she was having a hard enough time trying to gather up the confidence to do that.

"Ok shoot," Valeska insisted while trying to squeeze into a tight maroon evening gown. She was often told she had baby bearing hips and whether it was meant as a compliment or not, this fact made it incredibly difficult for her to find clothing that fit her right. Due to this, the common saying that all women loved shopping was one she loved jumping at the chance to disprove.

"Are you fallin' for LaCroix?" For a moment longer than Valeska intended, there was dead silence between the pair. Mercurio's tone had been so unexpectedly serious, that it had thrown her off completely. Additionally there was not a single hint of buildup to the question; he had literally brought it out of nowhere.

"Are you kidding me? Of course not!" Valeska responded with an awkward bit of forced laughter. Even an idiot could have seen right through her line of lies, and Mercurio was far from being unintelligent.

"Ok…let's try this again, but with a bit o' honesty this time round: Are you fallin' for the boss?" he repeated.

"Yes, okay? I'm falling head over heels for a vampire Prince and I have no idea why!" she replied irritably. With a frustrated sigh she decided to give up on the suffocating gown and threw it to the ground. "I mean for goodness sake he has nearly NO redeemable qualities. None! I'm driving myself insane trying to figure out why I'm attracted to him, and I'm so sick and tired of never coming up with anything sensible. I keep thinking for some reason that it might be his blood because it makes me feel so alive, like somehow I'm closer to him after drinking it or something else equally stupid. I don't know anymore…I just…damn it I don't know!"

Sighing again she put her back to the wall and slid down it with her head in her hands. She was frustrated, she was angry, and she was confused, but worst of all was that Mercurio hadn't said a single word in reply to her outburst. His silence almost made her feel suspicious in that it seemed like he might be holding back from saying something important. As always though, it was probably just her paranoia with its iron grip on her thought processes that made her mistrustful of her friend. He hadn't done anything yet to betray her trust, so why would he start now? Standing back up, Valeska opened the door and poked her head out. Her partially naked body was completely out of the view from her mentor, but he probably would have averted his eyes out of courtesy for his student anyway.

"Your turn to be honest Mercurio: What kind of effects does vampire blood have on mortals?" Valeska questioned, staring him dead in the eyes. Immediately he tore his gaze away hers and stared at the ground. Yep, it was obvious now that he was hiding something. Overabundance of paranoia or not, she could practically feel the conflict tearing him up inside.

"Look kiddo, it's different for everyone. What might be standard for me might be completely outta whack for you, so I can't really say," Mercurio explained half-heartedly, still refusing to look her in the eyes.

"LaCroix told you to keep quiet, didn't he?" Mercurio's brow shot up as he looked at her with an expression of complete shock. He opened his mouth, probably to ask how she knew that, but she held up her hand to stop him from doing so. "I wasn't born yesterday. Unless someone has been doing it for years, much like our boss has, I can usually tell when someone is lying."

"Val I'm…I'm sorry," Mercurio apologized, rubbing the back of his neck which seemed to be his own nervous habit. Although he was mostly guiltless in the situation, Valeska still found herself shutting the door in his face anyway. She wasn't filled with anger or hurt feelings like she thought she would be though, as she understood exactly how threatening the Prince could be.

"Listen, I know it's not your fault," Valeska reassured through the door. "If I were in your shoes I would do the same thing, so don't feel bad ok? I'm sure eventually I'll figure out what's going on with me, and whether you know it or not your intentionally vague response actually helped me out a lot."

"I don't doubt it kiddo, you're smart enough to piece it all together. But hey, for what it's worth I wanted to thank you. Your words mean a lot, specially comin' from you," her ghoul mentor acknowledged.

"What do you mean by 'coming from me'? I'm nothing but a college dropout specializing in criminal activities," Valeska joked before picking up the last evening dress from the pile. She was way too picky with everything in her life, so she only hoped that she would like the way this one looked on her. The gown already had bonus points going for it though since it was an attractive shade of dark teal and the material was made of silk

"You're just a lot like someone from my past," Mercurio answered.

"Who?" she nosily inquired, sliding the dress up over her hips.

"How's bout after you pick a dress, we go get a bite an' I'll tell you then," he offered.

"Deal," Valeska agreed. It was a clever proposal since she was taking forever to choose a gown, and he was still starving. Her curiosity would motivate her to move quickly, and it was working as she finished getting dressed much earlier than she had with the other dresses.

Giving herself a good look in the mirror, she could openly admit without being influenced by an over inflated ego, that she looked absolutely beautiful. Everything about the dress, from the way it hugged her hourglass hips, to the way it supported her breasts, flattered every single physical feature she had. To someone else it may have been seen as a simple A-line dress that flowed down to her feet and had a single strap that crossed over her shoulder, but for her it was love at first sight. Feeling a cool breeze from the mall's AC, she turned to see that the entire surface of her pale back was exposed. Spinning back around, she smoothed out the front of the classy dress and smiled. It was absolutely perfect.

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**Author's Note: **Surprisingly, I don't really have much to say about this chapter. It was really just meant to show more emotional conflict between Val and LaCroix, as well as give more screen time to Mercurio. I promise that the next chapter will not only have Mercurio's backstory, but will also explain why he seems to care about her so much. I might also release that chapter a bit early because after all, it's nearly finished and the only reason I would delay its release is to catch up on school which once again I apologize for. Anyway, drop a review and let me know how you felt about the chapter! It's very difficult for me to develop an OC like Valeska, so any feedback on her or anything else is highly appreciated. Thanks again everyone!


	19. Mobster Mercurio

**Author's Note:** Alrighty so here's part 2 of Val's trip to the mall. As promised this one contains Mercurio's backstory and shows a different side to his character. While to some it might be a bit of a stretch, to me it seemed to fit in perfectly with his character. Creating history for canon characters can be fun, but I'll admit that it can be nerve racking waiting to hear how my readers view it. Anyway, I hope you'll continue to enjoy the story and for those who left a review, look below for my responses!

**Special Thanks: **I probably sound like a broken record by now, but I will always continue to thank you all for your support. I especially want to thank Sasha Naruto, Sof, and trace-selenium for their reviews! To Sasha Naruto: You're right about LaCroix's blood preventing Mercurio from saying much. It doesn't make him a mindless slave, but it does make it somewhat difficult for him to do much against the Prince. Thank you for understanding about my delays by the way! To Sof: I'm glad to hear that my chapters are worth the wait! I admit that at times writing can get a bit stressful, but it's mostly my paranoia of releasing horrible writing lol. I'm also happy to hear that the canon characters are spot on and that you're enjoying Valeska's character; she can be a bit difficult to write for at times! To trace-selenium: w00t new reviewer! Let me start by thanking you for your tips on writing. I'm always looking for improvement so it's much appreciated. My story is all about finding a happy medium for me. I want it to be romantic and funny, but also have the darkness that was present in the game. Same goes for Valeska's character. Like rednightmare said at one point, she has sociopathic tendencies, but her love for her grandmother makes it so she has redeemable qualities. I also want her to be capable of being her own person, but not to the point where she is completely helpless or an overly strong independent woman who don't need no man (sorry had to quote a meme). I like that you noticed that she puts her foot in her mouth a lot. Most of her time was spent with books and not with other people, so she's meant to come across as a bit socially awkward or just outright blunt. I think you might like this chapter though if you're looking for a bit of cunning from Valeska. Let me know what you think!

**Disclaimer: **This will probably be my last disclaimer notice, as it's pretty obvious by now that I don't have ownership over anything or anyone besides my own OC characters. I mean come on, I've been saying this for 18 chapters. Let's make room for the actual story! =P

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**Chapter 18 Mobster Mercurio**

"So, how do I look?" Valeska asked after walking out of the dressing room in her dark teal gown. For theatrical purposes, she threw in a little twirl to add to how elegant she felt. To her delight, she was met with something she was definitely not used to: a dropped jaw.

"Damn Val! Throw in a fancy hair style plus some jewelry, an' you might just cause a few of those vamp hearts to start beatin' again!" Mercurio exclaimed with a wide grin. While his words made her feel desirable, they also resulted in her face blushing into a bright red. "That dress's the one, cherry tomato. Now go get changed so we can grab some grub."

With a nod and a smile, she hurried back into the dressing room, changed back into her regular clothing, and finally finished by buying the dress. As Mercurio had promised, a discount did come complete with the purchase as he was not only friends with the female shop keeper, but he had been flirting with her almost non-stop since they entered the store. This didn't really come as a surprise to Valeska though, as her mentor's personality had always struck her as being a bit of a charmer.

After leaving the dress shop, the two ghouls hit up a second hand jewelry store to pick out a necklace and matching pair of earrings for Valeska's dress. Even though they were used, the accessories were way too overpriced so Mercurio decided to give Valeska a few tips on swiping objects while under the watchful eyes of security cameras. None of the concepts he presented were entirely new to her though, since she often stole small items from some of the stores downtown. It wasn't something she was proud of, but neither was it something she felt bad about. Her actions, no matter how immoral others might have considered them to be, always registered as being completely neutral in her mind.

"It's all bout timin' kiddo, an' o' course plannin' an appropriate distraction for the shop keepers. Developin' some kind of friendly contact also establishes trust an' keeps em from watchin' you like a hawk," Mercurio explained as they left the store with their illegally acquired accessories. Valeska had been polite in letting her mentor talk on and on about thieving and fencing, but again, she already knew quite a bit about his methods. Part of her really wanted the chance to prove herself to her mentor that she was just as good as he was with stealing things. Well, maybe she could.

"So what would you do to steal something from say…that store?" Valeska asked, pointing in the direction of a more expensive jewelry store.

"Oh that's easy!" Mercurio proclaimed. No doubt this was boosting his self-esteem in being able to brag about his past conquests while sharing his knowledge at the same time, but now it was her turn to show him what she was capable of.

As her mentor spoke on, Valeska tuned out his voice and noted his strides while they walked. He was much taller than she was and thus took larger steps. Since he was distracted with explaining his heist example, he didn't notice as Valeska sped up her steps and subtly slid her hand into the bag that contained her dress and stolen jewelry. It didn't take long for her to feel around inside for the earrings, and then quickly snatch them out. They were already far enough away from the second hand jewelry store, so with a smile she put them on and waited for her mentor to turn his attention back to her.

"An' o' course you gotta w-" Mercurio continued before glancing over at her and stopping midway in his sentence. He ended up doing a double take as well when he saw both the earrings and the wide mischievous grin his student was wearing. "Why you little trickster! How did you do that?"

"I established trust with the target, created a distraction, and then waited for the perfect moment to strike," she explained with the same wide grin. "I was going to take your wallet, but I decided the earrings would be more stylish."

"Well looks like someone learns fast," her mentor teased throwing in a few chuckles. "Why didn't you just stop me if you already knew what I was talkin' bout?"

"Because it's one thing to tell someone you can do something, and it's another to actually show them. If I had told you that I was decently skilled at being a thief, then you may or may not have believed me. From then on you possibly might have viewed me as immature or unwilling to learn how to improve myself. Flat out revealing what I was capable of was a much more impressive and convincing display, wouldn't you agree?"

"Nah you're right, but a simple: 'I wanted to prove I'm a badass' would o' worked too ya know," Mercurio pointed out. Slightly embarrassed, Valeska unpinned her earrings and put them back into the bag Mercurio was carrying. It was true that she had wanted to prove herself to him, but in a way her actions might have upset him in the process. Almost as if he were reading her mind he began laughing. "I'm not mad at you kiddo, just surprised more than anythin'. I know the main man wouldn't o' recruited ya if you had no talent, but I still never know what to expect from you. One minute you're blushin' an' bein' shy, then the next you're pickin' my pocket, or well bag in this case."

"Oh, well I tend to get that a lot from people so I get where you're coming from. My behavior tends to flip flop a lot, but it's pretty much second nature to me by now," Valeska informed her mentor.

"What is? Bein' a thief or bein' shy?" he taunted in a friendly manner.

"Both I guess. I don't have a lot of experience in social interactions so naturally I tend to be an awkwardly shy kind of person. As for being a thief, well, I learned that at a young age from my dad," she answered.

"No kiddin'! Somethin' else we have in common then. Was it your pops that taught ya how to hack an' such too?" her mentor asked.

"Uhm…kinda. He wasn't a bad man or anything, but I don't really want to talk about him right now," Valeska replied. She loved her dad probably more than any other man on the planet, but it was a sensitive topic for her as he had taken off and left her when she was only six. Why he did it she would never know, though she assumed that since her father had been a highly logical individual, his reasons must have been very good ones. She couldn't really be mad at him for leaving though since it had made her stronger as a person and allowed her to grow up with her grandma. Besides, he had passed on mysteriously shortly after leaving her, so harboring hatred for someone who was deceased was a pointless waste of energy when she could remember the good times instead. Never the less, she still didn't want to discuss her father with Mercurio, at least not yet.

"Hey no problem. Family issues always tend to be a bit sticky so let's go get some food instead," Mercurio offered with a comforting smile.

Nodding in agreement, they changed directions in order to head to the food court. Like most malls, the Santa Monica Mall gave a wide variety of big name fast food joints, but the pair decided on a small 40's themed diner rather than one of the chain restaurants. The place was empty, probably due to the fact that the mall would be closing soon, but they still chose to sit in the back with their burgers and shakes just in case someone overheard their conversation. Picking up one of the metal chairs, Mercurio flipped it around and sat backwards upon it.

"I love this place," Mercurio announced before unwrapping his burger and taking a big bite out of it. "Reminds me o' this little place I used to visit with my pops so I spose you could say it makes me feel like home."

"You mean in New York?" Valeska asked, picking the onions off her food. She couldn't stand most vegetables in the first place, but onions, she outright hated.

"Yep," Mercurio replied with a nod. Due to the high amount of food he was presently stuffing his mouth with, his voice came out as slightly muffled. Valeska wondered briefly how long it had been since he had last eaten, because his current actions made it seem like he was suffering from an extreme case of starvation.

"Why does a 40's themed restaurant remind you of home?" she inquired with a raised eyebrow. Gingerly she nibbled at her burger, like she did whenever she was trying something she was uncertain with. She was glad though to find that it actually tasted delicious. When he didn't respond, she glanced up at Mercurio to see that he had stopped halfway through a bite of his food. Sighing he placed it the burger back down on his plate and looked at her with a serious expression.

"Val, how old do ya think I am?" She looked him over carefully, wondering if this was a trick question of some kind. Obviously he was trying to prove some kind of point, but she wasn't sure what.

"Uhm…early to mid-thirties maybe?" she answered hesitantly, hoping she wouldn't offend him. Instead of appearing upset, Mercurio chuckled quietly.

"Try almost sixty," he corrected with a knowing smirk. Valeska didn't say anything; she simply blinked a few times. She remembered being told that vampire blood had the ability to halt the aging process, but she found it hard to believe that he was nearly sixty years old.

"Then I have to admit that you look mighty fine for your ripe old age," Valeska joked with a friendly smile.

"I appreciate the gesture, kiddo," Mercurio acknowledged with more laughter. "Anyway, you once asked me why I left the Big Apple, but to answer that I gotta dish out some history. Sound good?" Valeska simply nodded, allowing him to continue. "Right then, now I might've lived in New York, but I wasn't born there. In the late 1940's I was actually born in Italy, but I can't tell you shit bout what the country was like since my parents immigrated to the US four years later. Memories of my childhood from there are a bit fuzzy, but I remember my pops bein' so desperate for work that he pretty much did anythin' to put bread on the table. It was a rough time for my family, and it didn't take long for my pops to fall in with a bad crowd."

"How bad are we talking here, Mercurio?" Valeska asked while folding up the paper her straw had come in; again just like having to tear off the labels on bottles and food containers, this was another one of her habits she seemed to automatically do.

"The American Mafia," Mercurio answered casually as if he hadn't said anything incredibly surprising.

"Your dad was in the Mafia?" Valeska questioned in disbelief. "But I thought all the major gangsters died out in the late 1930's." Any knowledge of the famed group of mobsters was pretty much limited to a number of old movies she had seen, so in other words, she knew next to nothing about the organization.

"You kiddin' me? They're still the largest organized crime group out there, Val!" Mercurio exclaimed before lowering his voice again to avoid drawing outside attention. "An' before you go askin' how to join em, the answer's no you can't, you gotta be Italian."

"I don't want to join the Mafia, Mercurio, but judging by your response and what you've told me so far, I'm guessing you know more about them than you're letting on," Valeska theorized, watching him carefully for signs of deception.

"Good guess kiddo. Growin' up, pops was my hero so naturally I spent every wakin' moment that I could with the guy. While my friends wanted to be firefighters an' shit, I wanted to be a mob boss," Mercurio explained with a small smile before getting serious again, "Now lemme get one thing straight with you though. My pops tellin' me bout his ties to the Mafia made him a 'rat'. The Family Code plainly states that sharin' knowledge with those outside the Family, aka anyone not affiliated with the Mafia, will end with a bullet to your brain. He could've easily been bumped off if he'd gotten caught, but he was smart an' found a way to induct me at age thirteen."

"Wow Mercurio, that's pretty young," she said trying to imagine a younger version of Mercurio handling arms deals and fencing stolen objects. "I mean I always pictured you as being a mischief maker throwing pencils in the ceiling or dealing out chewing gum during recess, but a mini mobster? Never in a million years would that one have popped up in my head. I have to ask though, what was it like being a gangster?"

"Oh it was friggin' great! Even when I was just a soldier, which is like the lowest rank besides bein' a pissant associate, I had power, money, respect, an' later on: women. It was like havin' an extended family with benefits away from my actual family," her mentor described enthusiastically, with his arms crossed around the back of his chair. "I loved it, an' damned if I wasn't good at it. Gamblin', extortion, corruption o' public officials, labor racketeerin', loan sharkin', murder, I did it all. By the time I was twenty I was already a capo or Caporegime if ya wanna get technical bout it. I was a high rankin' member of the Family, I had my own crew of soldiers, I made a shit ton of cash, an' I reported directly to the underboss or sometimes even the head honcho himself. I guess the only thing that got annoyin' for me was that every other guy was named Frank, Joe, Sam, or John… Goddamn was that a pain in my ass."

"I can see the appeal," Valeska admitted, "Until I met you, I didn't really know anyone who shared a similar skill set. Having the chance to work with like-minded individuals and then getting paid to do jobs with them sounds like it would be a ball. Soooo…what went wrong?"

"I met my wife," Mercurio responded bluntly. She couldn't be entirely sure if he was joking or not, but there wasn't a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I'm…sorry?" she apologized tentatively after sipping nervously at her chocolate milkshake. She honestly didn't know what else to do or say at this point, so returning to her food seemed the only option left.

"Oh no you misunderstand me, Val. My wife was probably _the_ greatest woman on the planet. She was drop dead gorgeous, clever, supportive, fun to be round, independent, an' she had real class compared to the broads I was used to dealin' with. She was well…perfect really an' when I laid eyes on her for the first time, I knew she was the one. I charmed that little lady right off her feet an' in a month we were happily married. One year later she bore me a beautiful baby girl who I'm happy to say grew up to be more like her mom an' not her dad," Mercurio joked with a half-smile.

"What's your daughter like?" Valeska questioned curiously, "She must be a full grown woman by now." Mercurio's smile vanished from his face to be immediately replaced with an expression of sorrow. Valeska wasn't sure what had brought on this display of depression, until she realized that the previous words he had used to describe his family had all been said in the past tense.

"She was a lot like you, Val…mentally quick on her feet, funny in a dorky kinda way, a bit shy but full of surprises, an' if I can get away with sayin' it, a horrible taste in fashion. Hell, physically she even looked like ya kiddo, cept the glasses I spose," he said softly while avoiding eye contact. In a comforting manner, Valeska put one of her hands on top of his that were folded on the table. Everything made sense to her now as to why her mentor was always there for her. It wasn't because the Prince had ordered him to watch after her, and it wasn't for some other fictional reason her suspicious mind had conjured up. It was because he cared for and protected her in the same way that a parent would a child. If she really was exactly like his daughter, whose fate was currently unknown to Valeska, than it was no wonder he was repeatedly jumping through hoops to help her out.

"What happened, Mercurio?" Valeska asked softly, still trying to comfort her friend.

"I got stupid, that's what happened!" Mercurio snapped angrily. This was the first time she had ever seen him upset, and although she knew he would never do anything to harm her, his reaction made her nervous none the less. "I gotta a job to shake down some local business, but one of the rival Families that had beef with us got word bout it. They showed up, whacked half my crew, and slipped back into the night like a bunch o' rats! Goddamn bastards made me look green in the eyes o' the boss an' damned if he didn't lemme know it. He said if I couldn't handle the heat than I didn't deserve the position of bein' a capo, so just like that I was back to bein' a friggin soldier. I deserved my demotion but I was so damn angry. I thought time would help cool my jets but with the decrease in cash comin' in, it was just a painful reminder of my screw up. Eventually my greed and spite got the better o' me, and drove me to conspire with one of the other soldiers to…to steal from the don."

"You did _what_?" Valeska cried, retracting her hand out of complete shock. "Mercurio, that's just…why the hell would you do something like that?"

"I told you, I got stupid!" he repeated heatedly, "The money was too damned good, an' I figured if I got enough o' it, than I could find a way to flee the state with my wife an' daughter. It was an amateur thing to do, specially to a Family that never did anythin' but support me. Loyalty, obedience, honor, that was what we stood for an' I spit in their goddamn faces." Valeska was still too shocked to believe that Mercurio would have done such a thing, that she simply remained silent waiting for him to continue. "We got the money easy enough, but even with our tracks covered, they found out who did it damn fast. I came home that night to find my family being held at gunpoint an' I begged em'…I _begged_ em' on my friggin' hands an' knees not to do it, but they killed em' both right in front o' my eyes. Riddled my wife and ten year old daughter so heavily with bullets that by the time they were done, I couldn't even recognize their faces. One dumbass move an' I lost everythin' in this world that made me wanna be a better man…"

"Oh god…I'm so, so sorry Mercurio. I can't even begin to comprehend how painful that must have been for you," Valeska said, trying to comfort her friend to the best of her abilities. However it was obvious that she wasn't good with these kinds of things. Emotions flat out confused her for the most part so when it came to effectively supporting people she never knew what to do. Mercurio didn't say anything to her statement; he just nodded and looked away to prevent Valeska from seeing his watering eyes, not that she would ever judge him for crying anyway. After a few long moments full of sniffles and tears, Mercurio exhaled deeply and looked back at his student with red, puffy eyes.

"Sorry bout that Val. I usually don't share this with someone less I trust em', an' as you can probably guess, that's not often," Mercurio apologized before exhaling deeply and taking a gulp of his milkshake.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Mercurio," Valeska consoled, "Memories like that are especially painful to share because we're forced to relive them. Everyone needs a moment to let it out so no worries." She patted his hand again and gave him a small reassuring smile which was the exact same thing he probably would have done to her had their positions been reversed in the situation. She hoped her words and actions didn't seem forced because in a way she felt they were.

"Yeah I know…thanks Val," her mentor acknowledged with a weak smile. Before he continued, he took a deep breath. "After that, somethin' in me snapped. Like some kind o' wild animal I managed to take out two or three of their guys with my bare hands before it was my turn to taste a mouthful of dirt. They beat the livin' shit outta me, an' then shot me up like a junkie addicted to lead bullets. I was pretty much dead till you know who showed up like a knight in shinin' armor minus the friggin' horse."

"Well when you say 'you know who,' I doubt you mean Voldemort, soooo LaCroix?" Valeska guessed. It was a shot in the dark for her, but she found it ironic as well as annoying that the first person she connected to the image of a heroic knight was the Prince of LA.

"Yep. He was stakin' for power in New York long before he came to Cali. Supposedly he'd been in the area after they quote unquote killed me, so in exchange for my services he saved my life, made sure the Mafia knew I was a corpse, an' then smuggled me out o' the state. I'm sure he would o' helped my parents too if I'd asked, but my pops passed on a few years before in a job gone wrong an' my mom died of the broken heart cliché shortly after."

"I'm sorry to hear about that, but uhm…good timing on LaCroix's part then I guess…?" she hypothesized clumsily; Mercurio just shook his head.

"Part of me wants to believe that's the truth kiddo, I really do. If I know anythin' bout the Ventrue though, it's that they'll always on the lookout for talented blood. Sometimes I wonder if LaCroix tipped off the rival gang the night I had that shake down job, but eh…who knows anymore? It was so long ago that I spose it doesn't really matter," Mercurio said glumly with a shrug while looking off into the distance in a thoughtful manner.

"You really think LaCroix would have done something like that?" Valeska asked in partial disbelief. "I mean, I know he's a bit of a shifty fellow, but that's just low."

"Val, I've been workin' for Prince LA for almost thirty years now, an' if there's one thing he's not, it's compassionate," her mentor clarified in a matter-of-fact tone. "If he wants somethin' he'll get it, end of story."

"Yeah, but to destroy someone's life like that…" she continued slowly, "Okay so he's an ass, but surely he couldn't have known his actions would have resulted in the death of your entire family."

"Then you don't know LaCroix. The man is downright cold, even for a dead guy. I ain't sayin' he's responsible for what happened to me in NY cuz in the long run that was my own damn fault. What I am sayin' though, is that you can't trust him an' ya need to be careful when you're round him," Mercurio advised. "Oh an' not a word to the boss what I just said. It's already hard enough for me to talk smack bout him, but I care bout ya kiddo an' I really don't wanna see you get hurt."

"Well thank you Mercurio, I promise not to rat you out. Believe me when I say though that I don't trust LaCroix at ALL. No matter how strong my feelings get toward that poor excuse of a man, I'm never going to place my faith in him," she hurriedly assured to let him know that she wasn't some naïve woman with a grade school crush. Once again she found herself trying to prove herself to her mentor and defend her name more than she ever had with anyone else. The reasoning behind this was unclear, but she assumed it was because in some small way, he was like a father figure to her (even more so now that he said she was like his daughter). It was an odd kind of relationship to have with someone, but seeing as how they were both robbed of their respective family members earlier than was anticipated, it wasn't entirely surprising.

"You say that now, but give it a few more weeks an' then tell me how ya feel bout him," he scoffed. "You've already got the hots for the guy, so if you think it's bad now just you wait till' yo-". He stopped speaking right in the middle of his sentence as though he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Until what?" Valeska demanded nervously, "Is something bad going to happen to me?"

"Nothin', forget what I said," Mercurio ordered before gathering up their trash and standing up to toss it in the garbage can.

Quickly Valeska jumped out of her seat and grabbed her mentor's wrist with more strength than she realized she had. She remembered LaCroix telling her that she would be physically stronger as a ghoul, but she had no idea she would have the ability to halt a man in his tracks with a simple grasp. Since Mercurio was much taller than Valeska, he had to look down at her to better show his face which was full of what could only be surprise. Obviously neither one of them had been expecting her to make such a bold move, but Valeska was tired of sitting back and being submissive. It was time to take her fate into her own hands and get the answers she needed

"Mercurio, I need to know what's going on with me and I need to know NOW!" she shouted with frustration. Not that she cared at this point, but her impulsive move had drawn the attention of the cook in the kitchen and the woman who had run up their food at the cash register. "I know I told you I would figure this out on my own, but I'm not going to lie here: I'm scared shitless of what's happening to me. I'm alone in the dark with an infinite amount of questions and you're the only person I can really trust so please, just give me a hint." When she spoke, her pleading eyes never left his, so she hoped that this might better motivate him to do the right thing.

"Alright fine," her mentor said. With a heavy sigh he closed his eyes, and looked as though he was having a very difficult time trying to speak again. It was almost as if he was fighting some kind of inner monster that prevented him from saying anything. Eventually he reopened his eyes, but he more blurted out his words than he did state them in a calm voice. "Vamp blood, no matter who gets a taste of it, has a high chance of makin' the recipient develop feelin's for the donor. Now ya mind releasin' your death grip on my wrist?"

Valeska let go of Mercurio which in turn allowed him to throw out their trash. Staring down at the ground, her brow furrowed in thought as she began to ponder her new piece of evidence. She knew now why she had such irrational feelings toward the Prince, but in the pit of her stomach was an awful feeling that she just couldn't shake. There was no doubt in her mind that vampire blood probably had a long list of other side effects, and perhaps it was one of those that had made LaCroix so demanding in his order that she partake in his blood the previous night. After all, the man's resources seemed limitless so if he wanted a woman for the night, he would have one. Therefore she highly doubted that he would make her drink his blood just because he wanted her to fall for him. Then again it would be significantly easier to control her if she had feelings for him, so perhaps that was what he was aiming at? Something important regarding this was still missing, but what was it?

"Hey you two, mall's closing so I'm going to have to ask you to leave the premises," a mall cop ordered, drawing Valeska's attention away from her thoughts.

"Will do, thanks. Come on Val, let's get you home," Mercurio said softly, placing his hand on the small of her back to guide her out of the diner.

"I'm fine, let's just go," Valeska said, pulling away from her mentor's touch. She had a lot to think about now, and as the pair headed toward the exit, she only hoped that whatever LaCroix had in store for her was not malicious.

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**Author's Note:** Ok so like I said, Mercurio's backstory might be a bit controversial to some depending on how he's most viewed. However for me, every encounter I had with the guy in game and his interesting choice in vocabulary made it seem like he was in the Mafia before. When he said he couldn't go back to New York I had to wonder why. Additionally since LaCroix was in New York around the same time Mercurio was, I figured that Prince LA _might_ have played a part in him not being able to return. To build more on Mercurio's character I decided to throw in a bit of tragedy and leave it up to the reader to decide whether LaCroix was responsible for what happened. Depending on the responses I get, I might make it more concrete, but for now I'll leave it to be vague. As you probably have also seen, I'm attempting to make Valeska a more memorable character. It's difficult to do with an OC in that I seemed trapped between making her more likeable (but comes across as somewhat helpless) or more independent (which might make her seem bitchy). Hopefully I'm finding some kind of medium, but I'd love to hear your thoughts on her or anything else! As always I'm always on the lookout for improvement so drop a review if you have the time. Compliments, constructive criticism, ideas, characters you'd like to see, and/or anything else you'd like to share is what I would love to hear!


	20. Welcome to Sanitarium

**Author's Note: **Alrighty here we have Chapter 19! This is yet another chapter leading up to Grout's dinner party which I'm still scrambling to get the details in order on what I want to do with that. Nothing too exciting in this chapter, just continued insight & attempted expansion on Valeska's character, her obvious development into being a ghoul, a bit more humor & awkwardness, and finally more interaction between LaCroix and herself. Enjoy!

**Special Thanks:** I honestly cannot believe I've written nearly twenty chapters, but I know for a fact that that is in no small part due to my fans. Without all of you, whether it be reader, reviewer, follower, and/or favoritor (yes I know that's not a real word), I probably would have given up on this little project long ago. So thank you all for your continued inspiration and support! I have never actually outright thanked my followers or favoritors (again, fake word I know) so thank you SO much to Hebenon, LadylayDE, MischievousEnigma, Padme4000, White Wolf Writers, mizniki, myobsidianbutterfly, EvaVVC, and aberdeenkev for doing this! Also, more special thank you's to my most recent reviewers: Sasha Naruto, aberdeenkev, Sof, myobsidianbutterfly, and LadylayDE. I love ya all! ^_^

**Responses:** New section to replace disclaimers, yay! To Sasha Naruto: Happy to hear you enjoyed the chapter and especially the father/daughter bond between Mercurio and Valeska. I was going out on a limb with everything in that chapter, but it seems to have gotten positive feedback (yay!). The reason I made it so heavily implied that LaCroix had something to do with Mercurio's downfall, is that often many vampires will test their future ghouls or children to see if they can handle vampire society. Additionally, something as powerful as a family (blood related or Mafia) could have made Mercurio spill the beans about vampires if not have his loved ones pull him away from serving LaCroix. It's a stretch, but like I said, I left it up to the readers to decide! To aberdeenkev: Glad you also enjoyed the backstory! Valeska will cope with her addiction in the best way she can: with cold hard logic lol. To Sof: I'm so happy to see that Mercurio's backstory is being so widely accepted. There will be more interactions between the Prince and his ghoul in this chapter and the next, but like true romance tends to be, they are more subtle if not flat out awkward. To myobsidianbutterfly: I hope my writing isn't too distracting for your schooling. I know how hard it can be to resist something we enjoy very much though so I understand completely. xD Thank you for the awesome feedback though, always glad to please the fans! To LadylayDE: Welcome to the insanity of joining the ranks of being a reviewer for my story! I grant upon you a complimentary odious chalice and a plate of cookies. Never feel as if your review is too long because I LOVE long reviews (the more info the better!) and your English is quite good so no worries in that department either. I'm glad you're enjoying my story so far, and I can only hope that the awesomeness as you described it remains true throughout. =)

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**Chapter 19 Welcome to Sanitarium **

By the time Valeska finally got home, she was strangely fatigued despite the fact that it wasn't even midnight yet. After saying farewell to Mercurio, she tossed her shopping bag on the floor and shambled blindly in the dark like a zombie over to her sofa. With her hands at her sides, she then collapsed upon it in a planking position without bothering to even undress or unfold her bed. Inhaling deeply, she got a whiff of the Prince's fancy cologne still present on her sheets folded up inside the couch. It annoyed her that once again she found this subtle aspect of her master to be so comforting, but even though she was already exhausted, this was the push she needed to slumber off into the deep end of the dream pool.

Probably because she was so tired, her mind remained unexpectedly blank for the entire duration of the night. It wasn't until she finally opened her eyes many hours later did she realize that she had actually fallen asleep. Even more surprising was that she hadn't moved once during the night like she usually did. She was still lying flat on her stomach with her arms at her side and her neck turned uncomfortably toward her TV. Her apartment was also just as dark as it had been when she passed out, but whether it was because her curtains were still closed or she had only been asleep for a few hours, she couldn't be sure.

Bringing herself to a sitting position, she fixed her glasses which were bent at an odd angle, and switched on her lamp so she could better see her wall mounted clock. Her eyes practically exploded from her skull though when she saw that it was 6:30pm. How had she been practically stone cold dead for almost sixteen hours? Something like this rarely ever happened to her unless she was dreadfully sick, and currently she felt absolutely fine, if not perfectly well rested. Was her clock off? Walking up to it, she tapped the glass case and examined it more closely. Unfortunately it looked like it was still functioning correctly and worse yet was the fact that in only an hour and a half, LaCroix would be arriving to pick her up.

"Damn it, Valeska!" she self-criticized aloud. Rushing to the bathroom she began to strip off her clothes, but in the process of peeling off her pants she accidently stumbled and almost landed on her face. Eventually she did make it to her bathroom without any bruises or broken bones, and immediately she turned the faucet on and hopped in. It was a very cold and uncomfortable shower, but she didn't have time to wait for the temperature to adjust. Besides, the freezing water made her want to move faster and also helped to wash away her partial drowsiness.

After her rather harsh shower, she wrapped herself with her towel and picked up her hair dryer with a bit of hesitation. Most people laughed when she told them about her freak incident, but ever since she had been accidently electrocuted with a frayed dryer cord in her childhood, she had always been a bit uneasy around the devices. Although her 'shocking' memory had not prevented her from using hairdryers, it had made it to where she wouldn't use them unless absolutely necessary. Turning on her hairdryer, she hurriedly dried her brown locks, but had to laugh when she flipped her hair back up and got a good look at herself in the mirror. She might as well have been electrocuted a second time because she looked almost like a frenzied lion with her frizzy mane jutting out in every which direction. Maybe it was because her nerves were shot from having to use her dryer, or maybe it was because she was rushing like crazy to get ready, but it took her a few minutes until she finally stopped laughing.

Next up was the addition of facial makeup which was something she was definitely not used to. She rarely if ever put on 'war paint' as she often called it, for the main reason that there seemed to be far too much effort involved for something as pointless as making her face look more attractive to those around her. However, since this was a formal event she decided that she needed to look the part. As she struggled with her mascara, she couldn't help but find it humorous that while something like advanced calculus was a walk in the park for her, the simple task of beautifying her eyes was not. Go figure.

Due to her perfectionist tendencies, it took Valeska around forty five minutes just to get her face looking decent enough to be presentable. Her hair had yet to settle into a state that was not outrageously puffy, so she plugged in her hot iron and while waiting for it to heat up, she slipped into a pair of underwear and her elegant dark teal gown. Afterwards she began to straighten her hair so that she could put it up into a bun, but half way through her task, there was a loud knocking at the door that took her for surprise and managed to make her jump.

"OW! Fuck!" Valeska cursed violently at the accidental burning of her index finger. Shaking her hand wildly and then sticking her burnt finger in her mouth, she more threw her hot iron down than she did place it gently on the sink's counter. Exiting her bathroom, she shot a quick glance at her clock to see that it was only 7:45. It was possible her boss had arrived fifteen minutes early, but she honestly hoped he had not.

Walking to her front door she peered out to see that low and behold, standing at her door step was Prince Sebastian LaCroix. If she thought he looked handsome before then it was nothing compared to how he was currently dressed. His normal long coated suit had been replaced with a classy, no nonsense black tuxedo that came complete with what looked like a white silk pocket square and silver cufflinks with onyx. While his blonde hair usually never had a single strand out of place, presently it looked so meticulously combed out that it made her want to run her hands through it just so he didn't look so damn perfect.

"Miss Latimer, I can hear your heavy breathing through the door," LaCroix announced with minor irritation, making her turn beet red. She thought she had been holding her breath in admiration, but apparently her stalker like tendencies had gotten the better of her. "I know my arrival is a bit early, but just recently I was in discussion with a fellow Ventrue who sought my counsel regarding a business venture. Therefore I would prefer, if possible, to arrive fairly early at the dinner party in order to effectively offer my guidance to him and…would you please just open the door? Communicating through it is rather indecorous."

"Oh uhm….right, sorry," Valeska apologized moving to unlock the door. She stopped dead in her tracks though when she remembered that while half her hair looked presentable, the other half was still horrifically frizzy and standing out at all ends. "Uh, hold on please!" Quickly she gathered up her jewelry, unlocked her front door, and then booked it to her bathroom. "Alright come on in and make yourself comfortable, sir." With that she shut the door and hurriedly returned to straightening her hair. The last thing she needed was her boss seeing how ridiculous she currently looked.

"Is there a problem, Miss Latimer?" she heard the voice of her master ask curiously.

"No, sir. I just have a few minor details left to attend to with my wardrobe. Sorry for the delay," she apologized again. She didn't hear a response, but she could hear the Prince walking around her apartment before he finally seated himself upon her sofa/bed. Her nerves which were already strained in preparation for the evening were now just an inch from snapping as she knew the impatient vampire in the adjacent room would not be happy in waiting very long.

Luckily for her, the second half of her hair was much more manageable and it only took a few minutes for her to effectively fix it. She was used to putting her hair up in a bun as that had been her every day hairstyle when she worked as a secretary, so that too took very little time. Her hair had gotten a bit longer since then though, so a few hair strands hung loosely at the sides of her face when she was done. Using her hot iron, she curled these strands in order to make them appear a bit fancier, and after doing so she looked in the mirror to see that she had succeeded in that endeavor. The last part of her wardrobe was of course her jewelry and shoes, so she too put these on even though her dark heels in particular would probably be covered up by her dress anyway. Normally she would have taken a second look in the mirror to make sure nothing was out of place, but she was still too concerned with getting back to the Prince that she skipped this.

Walking out of the bathroom, she gave her bored looking master a small smile. She honestly had not expected him to react very much if at all to her new appearance, but she was quite pleased to see him do a not so subtle double take followed by him immediately standing up from the sofa. Logically it was probably because he just wanted to go, but the possibility that he was incredibly shocked by her physical exterior kept nagging at her as being completely legitimate. She didn't want to let her ego get the best of her, since that was the easiest way to make mistakes, but in addition to his actions, his current facial expression made it seem like her desired theory was the correct one.

"You uhm," LaCroix began before clearing his throat. "You appear to have heeded my words in dressing in the correct manner best suited for a gathering of noteworthy vampires. I thank you for your wise decision regarding this issue and would also like to point out that you look very much the part of a Ventrue Prince's ghoul." He licked his lips almost nervously and averted his normally commanding gaze. She could tell that he had done this in an attempt to restrain his wandering eyes, but she couldn't blame him. It wasn't every day she traded in her jeans for a dress. Valeska also couldn't help but smile a bit more at his awkward and semi-forced business like compliments. Whether his words were genuine like she assumed them to be, she found this abnormal side of her master to be quite enjoyable.

"Thank you, sir," she acknowledged with a polite bow of her head, "May we go?"

"Yes, of course. After you, Miss Latimer," the pale Prince said gesturing that she walk forward. As the two began to head out, Valeska picked up her black, rectangular clutch purse. Like most clutches or coin purses, this one was quite small and only had enough room to hold her ID, a lock pick, and a very tiny picture camera. After all, this was a mission of reconnaissance and since she was quite used to doing them, she already knew what was needed to complete them effectively. Not that her previous jobs in doing such tasks were entirely successful, but she had hoped that by now she would have learned from her past failures.

Upon exiting the apartment complex, Valeska was surprised to spot the Prince's vehicle which was one she could actually recognize, a pitch black Rolls-Royce that she noted had tinted windows (probably for privacy and/or protection from the sun). The only reason she knew anything about these automobiles, was because of how heavily they were promoted in films as being ridiculously expensive. Usually they only belonged to the cream of the crop, so never in her entire life would she have thought she'd get the chance to touch one, let alone ride inside one. However, it would seem that this new life of hers had many benefits, most of which were probably still yet to come.

Walking swiftly ahead of her, LaCroix opened and held the back door open for his ghoul. On his face was his usual serious expression, but she felt that this act was not something he would have normally done for just anyone. She couldn't know for sure and while this was probably just wishful thinking, it served as yet another experience she had neither expected nor was she used to. Normally she held the belief that regardless of gender, such a common courtesy should be shown equally to both males and females. None the less, she couldn't deny that she enjoyed this stereotypical gentlemanly display from the Prince and it was one that no matter what his motives were, she wouldn't mind getting used to.

"Such a well-mannered gentleman you are, thank you, sir," Valeska said with an appreciative grin that she couldn't disguise. Sliding inside she had to resist from fiddling from the dozens of different buttons that lay before her. She knew the Prince wouldn't have appreciated it, so she focused her attention on the chauffeur and cramped Sherriff seated up front. Neither addressed her so she decided to keep her hands to herself and remain quiet after buckling up her seatbelt.

"Think nothing of it, Miss Latimer," her boss replied nonchalantly. "You are behaving as a lady and thus you shall be treated as such." With that he shut her door and walked around to get in on the other side. She knew he was trying to make a point in regards to their most recent argument, but she didn't mind. In fact, she actually felt the need to apologize to him.

"Mr. LaCroix, I feel the need to apologize for my belligerent remarks from yesterday evening. They were completely uncalled for and I know now without a doubt that you were absolutely right about my childish behavior," Valeska apologized courteously after he got in the car.

"Hmm, well that is what I prefer to hear from my subjects in training as it makes it appear as though you are more or less, learning something from your mistakes. Although your previous words were quite…belligerent as you delicately stated, I will accept your apology for the time being in that it would do no good to harbor resentment because of a simple slip up of words, which is how I am choosing to view them from this moment on. Please though, in the future restrain yourself from giving into your basic animalistic instincts by shouting out profanity laced insults," her boss advised with a sigh as he fastened his own seatbelt. She wondered why he would do such a thing seeing as how a car crash wouldn't do much to a vampire, but she decided that it was probably just another habit he practiced often to uphold the Masquerade. After all, in the even that they did get into an accident, his reduced injures would probably wind up being traced to the wearing of his seatbelt which would thus lower the chances of exposing vampires to the public.

"Yes, forgive me my Prince. Next time I'll be sure to halt such negative thoughts before they even begin," she hurriedly promised in order to please her master. Her words sounded so odd to her, almost foreign or possibly forced. She wasn't entirely sure where they were coming from either, and the unmistakable smirk on her boss's shadowed face did little to help her increasing levels of paranoia.

"Very good, Miss Latimer," the pale Prince said before turning his attention to his chauffeur, "Driver, would I be correct in assuming that you do not require the address to Aleister Grout's mansion?"

"Yes, sir," the chauffeur quickly responded, "I know exactly where it is located in the Hollywood Hills."

"Excellent, then take us there," LaCroix commanded as the driver immediately complied with his order. "Now then, Miss Latimer, in regards to your task this evening I would like to discuss exactly how you intend to retrieve the evidence I've asked for from Aleister Grout's mansion." Valeska turned her body in order to more easily communicate with her boss, and saw that he was watching her attentively with his hands folded on his lap.

"I'm glad you asked, sir. I've been going over it in my mind for the past two days and I think I've got something that will work out quite well. I need a second opinion though, so bear with me while I lay out the specifics," Valeska informed her master who signaled her to continue. She felt the car start up, and immediately dove into the nitty gritty details of how she planned to get the needed dirt on the Malkavian Primogen. She hadn't flat out told him, but there was a second reason she was glad that her boss had asked about her proposed strategy.

The trip to the Hollywood Hills would probably take at least thirty minutes, and knowing her own social flaws combined with the Prince's arrogance, the pair would either end up sitting in awkward silence for the entire trip or they would be at each other's throats by the end of it. Besides, what did they really have in common? In her mind he was a god amongst men (an opinion that disturbed her greatly), and she was nothing but his lowly servant. The only thing she figured that the two of them would enjoy discussing was the topic of the Prince himself. He never seemed to miss a moment to gloat about how superior he was, so she kept this mind in case a moment of silence arose between them in the near future.

About fifteen minutes later, Valeska had finished telling and showing her master everything she planned to do. His face was unreadable as always, but she was starting to get used to this aspect of his personality. If she were to take a guess at that moment, she would probably have said that the vibe she was getting from the Ventrue was that he was surprised if not mildly impressed with a tad bit of unease.

"Once again, Miss Latimer, you continue to astonish me. Few, if any of my subordinates rarely plot as far ahead as you apparently have," LaCroix praised which automatically put a wide grin on his ghoul's face. "I suppose it is a good thing I attained your services before some other vampire took advantage of them."

"Thank you, sir!" Valeska gleefully acknowledged. "It means a lot to this simple ghoul to receive praise from someone as important as the Prince of LA." Where the hell was this brown nosing coming from? Her abnormal usage of words irritated her highly because on any other occasion she would have been more satisfied with punching her master's face in rather than kissing up to it. Perhaps deep down inside she knew that playing to his desires to be seen as a powerful authority figure would keep the peace between them, and that was why she was flattering him like a madwoman. Or it simply could have been a side effect of drinking his blood. Who could tell really?

"I appreciate the gesture, but let me finish," her boss ordered making Valeska fall completely silent. She didn't even apologize for her apparent interruption; she just waited for him to continue. "While I do believe your plan is a thorough and seemingly effective one, you are still missing a highly important piece of the puzzle." Valeska furrowed her brow in confusion and watched as her master switched on the internal lights and reached into the seat in front of him. Pulling out a thin manila folder, he handed it directly over to his ghoul. "Open it."

Doing as she was told, Valeska opened the folder and let her eyes wander over the wealth of information contained inside. To most it would have appeared as nothing more than a simple set of blue prints to what seemed like a very large mansion. However to her it was like finding a piece of treasure from the lost city of Atlantis because she knew it was the layout to Grout's manor. Due to recent events she hadn't gotten the chance to do much research on her target's living area, but even if she had, it wouldn't have been easy to obtain such information.

"How did you get this?" Valeska inquired while unfolding the top sheet of paper carefully to view it better.

"You are not the only employee I have working under me that possesses knowledge of the computer industry," LaCroix explained, "We live in a century overrun with technology, so it would be foolish of me not to employ such individuals."

"No you're right, it's a smart move," she agreed, "But even so it couldn't have been easy to get this. If Grout's anything like the Malkavians I've heard rumors about, then naturally his paranoia would have made sure that this little treasure trove would be buried pretty deep in the hidden spaces of the World Wide Web."

"I do not believe that eccentric madman has even been made aware of the internet, but I honestly would not know," the Ventrue casually admitted, "All I know is that over a century ago, Aleister Grout commissioned a team of architects and construction workers to build his mansion, which as you can see by the blueprint, is a bit of a labyrinth."

"Yeeaaah…" Valeska slowly agreed for a second time, "Well since I'll able to refer back to it while I'm digging for dirt, I don't think I'll get lost."

"No, Miss Latimer, you won't," LaCroix declared drawing Valeska's eyes away from the sheet of paper in confusion. "The layout sheets are much too large for that tiny coin purse of yours, so unless you can effectively cram them in, the blueprints will unfortunately have to remain here in the vehicle." Valeska purposefully bit her cheek to stifle her laughter. If she could have gotten away with it, she would have shouted: 'That's what she said!' Remembering the last time her dirty mind got the best of her though, she held back.

"How am I supposed to get through this maze then? It seems almost impossible to navigate!" she exclaimed anxiously.

"Well you have two options. The first is to utilize what time you have left to memorize the blueprints to the best of your abilities, and the second would be to use your common sense to navigate through the mansion," her boss offered plainly in a bored tone of voice, "You behave as though this will be some epic and unobtainable quest for evidence, but in reality I believe it won't be nearly as difficult as you're making it out to be."

"Let's hope so…" Valeska said returning back to the mansion layout sheets. Deciding to take the Prince's first set of advice, she scanned the pages over what must have been a dozen times. She had a good memory, something that especially served her well in school, but it was in no way photographic. If it was, she wouldn't have been nearly as nervous as she currently was, because her ability to navigate through anything with or without a map was most definitely not her strong suite. For goodness sake she thought she would get lost in LaCroix's penthouse and that was less than half the size of Grout's manor. After a few more attempts to analyze and memorize the blueprints, she sighed and folded them back up in order to return them to her boss.

"Well?" Sebastian LaCroix questioned. He accepted the folder and placed it back in the rear of the seat in front of him.

"I've got a more or less decent picture of the place in my mind, but really the best we can hope for is that it remains there," Valeska answered glumly. "As long as the place isn't rigged with more traps than Bowser's castle, I should be fine."

"Hm," was all her boss said before turning to gaze out his window. She decided to follow suit and discovered that they were already in Hollywood. Although the land was quite attractive, she had never been to this area of California before, because frankly she didn't care to. Unless she got a job to work out of that area (which she never had), then realistically there was no reason for her to tour the famous city.

She had a few classmates who often visited to the city of stars every weekend in hopes that they would catch a glimpse of a famous celebrity like Ash Rivers. Even this prospect though failed to make the hills more appealing to make Valeska want to visit. She felt it was a pointless waste of time to obsess over ordinary people made into idols just because they could effectively entertain a crowd. To be fair, acting, singing, dancing, and the like was in no way an easy feat and often such works of art could be very inspiring. The magnitude of fame granted to celebrities though would probably do better if it was equally shared amongst every day heroes like scientists, medical professionals, and many others Maybe then more children would want to grow up to become renowned through other methods.

"We have arrived, sir," the chauffeur announced. Valeska tried to get a good look out her master's window in order to see the mansion better, but his body effectively blocked her view.

"Very well," LaCroix said before detaching his seat belt. He made no move to get out however, so Valeska wondered if he wanted her to open his door. Unbuckling her own safety harness she went to open her door. Halfway through she saw that from the corner of her eye her boss was not only frowning, but he had raised one of his eyebrows. "Miss Latimer, what are you doing?"

"I was going to get the door for you, sir," she replied innocently only to be perplexed when he laughed softly. Had she ever even heard him laugh before? It seemed so strange to hear anything that signaled happiness from him, but she liked it.

"Ah I forget you are not used to this yet. I have a chauffeur for a reason, Miss Latimer, and this one in particular is paid based on how well he performs in his duties. I'm sure you wouldn't appreciate someone taking over your own profession, so just remain in your seat and allow the driver to do his job," the Ventrue vampire ordered. In a small way, his words annoyed her as she was simply trying to be polite. Why did everything with him have to turn into a lecture anyway? Did he honestly not see her courteous intentions or did it just make him feel better to complain about everything? She had half a mind to ask why then, if he had hired someone to drive and open his doors for him, had he opened her own door earlier. Instead she decided that staying quiet would probably have been the wiser decision in this case. Instigating another fight between them would serve no meaningful purpose anyhow.

As promised, after LaCroix's driver had opened her master's door, he walked around to open hers. Holding his hand out to her, Valeska took it and allowed the chauffeur to gently assist her out of the vehicle. It was the first time she had gotten sight of the young driver, and in a small way he looked very similar to the handsome Prince, except with brown hair instead of blonde. He gave her a warm smiled, which she returned. If every aspect of this unique and extravagant life style came with a handsome young man, then she was certainly looking forward to exploring it further in detail.

Almost as if Sebastian LaCroix could sense this thought emanating from his ghoul, he moved quickly forward to pull her away from his chauffeur's grasp. He seemed quite irritated as well, though Valeska couldn't for the life of her figure out why. She had done as he had commanded and waited for the driver to assist her, so what else did he want from her? Turning around with her master, these thoughts were wiped completely from her mind as she had to literally stop herself from dropping her jaw in amazement.

Lying before her was what could only be described as an eccentric, gothic looking castle of sorts with a large front yard containing old fashioned street lamps, white marble benches, and a handful of nearly barren, twisted trees. Though she doubted every room contained someone in it, each curtained window had light illuminating from behind it, which gave Valeska the impression that the Malkavian Primogen was afraid of the dark or something similar. Interesting detailed inlays were also decorated all along the roof, door, and windows making the mansion appear all the more unique in appearance. Finally, right in the middle of the manor was a tower that stretched several stories high. Compared to the rest of the house, the tower almost looked like it had just been recently added on for its lighter paint colors and gated prison like windows failed to blend in with the natural exterior of the mansion.

"_This_ is where Aleister Grout lives?" Valeska managed to ask in disbelief while the pair ventured up the wooden steps to the dark double doors of the manor.

"Yes," her master responded dully, "And before you ask, the rest of his manor is just as 'exciting' as its exterior." In some small way it seemed as if LaCroix's sarcasm was hiding the disgust he had for the strange decorating taste that Grout had utilized. Unlike her boss however, Valeska found herself utterly fascinated with the Primogen's crazy yet classy sense of style. "Now remember what I said, Miss Latimer. Keep your head down, do not speak unless spoken to, and do not, under any circumstance, leave my side unless I give you the order to do so. Most importantly, and I cannot stress this enough, if Aleister Grout initiates a conversation with you for any reason, keep your responses brief and to the point. Do you understand me?" Staring intently at her with a serious expression, LaCroix had stopped right in front of the mansion's main entrance and had his hand suspended in midair as though her lack of response had stopped him from knocking at the door.

"Yes, sir," she replied hurriedly with a nod, anxious to meet the eccentric individual that was Aleister Grout. "I understand and I promise not to let you down."

"Let us hope so," was all her boss said before moving to knock at the front door. He stopped for a second time though, and turned his attention back to his ghoul. "Oh and before I forget, I know that what you will see within might be quite…bracing for one so new to the vampire community, but please, for the sake of my title and what I stand for, try to behave as if this is nothing new to you."

"I'll do my best," Valeska reassured, hiding her annoyance with his continue usage of lectures that would be better suited for a child. She wondered if he was even aware of his actions, and if he was, she wondered if he even cared about how rude he often came across. The least he could do though would be to stop acting like a preppy teenage girl obsessed with her reputation.

Sebastian LaCroix stared at her a moment longer and then simply nodded in acceptance to her reply. Finally he moved his fist to knock loudly at the front door, and the two stood in silence waiting for it to open. It was taking quite a bit longer than she expected for anyone to get greet them, and Valeska found herself nervously shifting her weight. Even though she had heard and seen quite enough to make her own assumptions based on how Grout would act and look like, this did not relieve her unease toward his character. He was a Malkavian after all, and if what she had been lead to believe was true, then they were supposed to have superior insight on whomever they spoke with. She herself had no idea how to defend against such mysterious voices that whispered hidden truths, and in truth it scared her. Before she had time to contemplate her fears further however, the front door slowly began to creak open…

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**Author's Note:** Cliff hanger…kind of…! Nothing too much to say from here other than the next chapter will have Grout, Therese Voerman, Maximillian Strauss, and a few other well-known characters bound to show up again in additional chapters later on. Seeing as how Grout's character and appearance can only be derived from a few recordings and a charred skeleton (why didn't he turn to complete ash like most vampires anyway?), I'm struggling with how to write for him. So far I've got well-spoken, intelligent, eccentric, courteous, and slightly paranoid but not overly obvious for personality traits. Anything that my fans are willing to suggest would be highly appreciated, as my mind is in a haze and the next chapter might be delayed because of it. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you will drop a review with ideas, critiques, compliments, etc. Thanks everyone!


	21. Deranged Doctor

**Author's Note:** So this chapter took me a bit longer than I expected it would. I had so little to go on with Grout's character, and I am not above admitting the irony that the insane doctor drove me insane trying to write for him. Due to my habit of trying to keep chapters relatively short, there is only one other well-known character in this chapter, but I'm going to keep it a surprise as to who it is. Hopefully you'll enjoy it and hopefully I didn't butcher everyone too badly!

**Special Thanks: **Thank you SO much to all of my loyal readers! You guys keep me happy and you keep me writing. I especially appreciate the reviews I got for the last chapter so in order I really want to thank LadylayDE, Sof, Sasha Naruto, and aberdeenkev. Love you guys! ^_^

**Responses: **To LadylayDE: I have the same feeling with LaCroix's character. I want to hate the guy, but he's far too fascinating to do so. I know Valeska might seem a bit conflicting, but you have to remember that she is in fact a ghoul. Ghouls especially who are developing a blood bond with their masters often find themselves unable to act against them, so I figured her giving into him so easily would have been a result of said bond. She's still her own person as you can tell by some of her responses, but the conflict she encounters is because of LaCroix's blood. Thanks for your suggestions with Grout's character and no worries about your English, I can understand it just fine! To Sof: Technically this one is the twentieth chapter, but thank you none the less! ^^' Hopefully I can continue to bring enjoyable humor to my writing. To Sasha Naruto: That's an interesting theory that Grout didn't really die, but simply faked his death instead. I might just employ that later on in my story, thank you! To aberdeenkev: Glad you liked it!

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**Chapter 20 Deranged Doctor**

When the door finally opened fully, Valeska realized that standing before LaCroix and herself, was not Aleister Grout at all. Unless the Malkavian Primogen was a cross dresser, which she highly doubted, then this nervous looking woman was definitely not him. Hunched over slightly, the young woman stood clinging to the entrance door as if she were terrified she might be blown away by a strong wind. Judging by how short and petite she was, this wouldn't have been a bad theory either. Her frizzy hair was a fire engine red, her deep chocolate brown eyes lay behind a thick pair of glasses, and her skin was relatively pale making Valeska ponder whether she was a vampire or just didn't get enough sun. While expecting to see the greeter dressed in some kind of formal wear, instead she wore baggy tan sweatpants, and two different shirts; the first was bright yellow and short sleeved with an odd symbol on the front, while the other lay underneath the former and was long sleeved with white & black stripes.

"O-oh the fanged lord and his lady have arrived twenty six m-miniatures before the carnival o-of m-masks is set to b-begin," the redhead quickly stuttered in a high pitched tone. When she spoke, her button nose twitched ever so slightly immediately followed by her nervously chewing at her already damp sleeve with her small buck teeth. As she continued munching on her shirt, Valeska noticed that she had no fangs of her own, and thus decided that she wasn't a vampire but probably a ghoul instead. After all, Mercurio had told her that often many ghouls picked up the characteristics of their master's bloodline.

"Your master should be expecting us within," LaCroix declared, looking down at the strange mouse like woman with slight disgust. Her eyes which had been fearfully darting back and forth she directed up toward the Prince, and instantly they became very wide and dilated.

"Yeeees the m-master o-of shattered mirrors and b-bloody trials…I hear him whispering to the spinning b-box b-before the dawn o-of fire," the frantic ghoul stammered, "His worries and contemplations m-make it hard to slumber." Valeska had heard that some Malkavians tended to speak in riddles, but she had no idea it would have been this bad. Her only hope was that the other guests would speak more plainly, because if not, this was going to be a very long and stressful evening.

"My apologizes for your problematic issues regarding your sleeping patterns, but again, our presences are expected inside," the pale Prince explained with minor irritation.

"O-of course my noble lord, this way," the young woman gestured with a twitch of her head. "B-but b-beware the watchful eyes and hungry jaws from the hungry Mayans b-below." Trying to heed the words of her master, Valeska pretended as if she knew exactly what the ghoul in front of her had said, but in reality she was beyond lost. Spinning boxes? Hungry Mayans? Her head hurt already trying to solve these conundrums.

Following her master inside, Valeska was met with the first room of the mansion which was just as eccentric as its outside walls. From the high vaulted wooden ceiling hung an odd looking chandelier and on the walls covered in intricate cream wallpaper were matching lanterns of a sort that jutted from the walls. Also lined along the walls at about every four or five feet, were tall and skinny metal pillars that stretched up toward the roof with their tops being seated with large iron skulls. Finally, there was absolutely no furniture in the room, and this gave the empty area an intense feeling of lonesomeness.

Before the pair could venture any further into the mansion, the Malkavian ghoul (as she was assumed to be) let out a sudden and shrilling shriek that made both LaCroix and his own ghoul jump in surprise.

"Get o-off! Get o-off the mouths!" the mouse like ghoul squeaked while frantically pointing at the ground. Dramatically she threw herself against the wall as she slowly began to inch cautiously toward the closed wooden doors leading to the next room. Glancing down at the black and white travertine tile that mirrored that of an old kitchen, Valeska saw what had the woman so shaken up. Lying in the middle of the room was a large circular golden brown rug that was decorated with ancient symbols and the apparent fierce faces of either powerful Mayan chiefs or the gods they worshipped. While the rug was essentially harmless it still had a sense of intimidation to it, and for a Malkavian ghoul who was probably hallucinating, it was understandably frightening.

Stepping off the rug to calm the hysterical ghoul, the pair walked around the piece of carpeting and followed their greeter into the next area which turned out to be a long foyer that lead up to a small sitting room. It had the same type of flooring and wallpaper as the previous room, but on the way in, Valeska was able to count six of the same grandfather clocks. If each clock had read a different time than it wouldn't have been too terribly odd, but every single one of them had matching faces.

"You w-wait here now," the hunched ghoul sputtered, which accidently resulted in spraying the Prince in front of her with a few flecks of her saliva. Before LaCroix even had the chance to realize what had happened, the woman swiftly scurried off like a rat down one of the adjacent halls. Sighing irritably, Valeska's boss reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief in order to wipe his face.

"Well that was…interesting," Valeska joked, "Are all Malkavians and their ghouls like that?"

"You have no idea," LaCroix answered while returning his handkerchief to the inside of his jacket. "Regrettably most Malkavian behavior closely mirrors that frantic little scene of absurdity you just saw play out. Those like Aleister Grout that can actually communicate in a coherent manner are a minority, but as you can see by his eccentric interior decorating, such a rarity often comes with a price."

"I kinda like it actually," Valeska confessed, looking up towards the ceiling, "It's beautiful in its own twisted kind of way, and the possible symbolism behind it really tells me a lot about Grout's personality." She paused when she saw her boss looking at her oddly. "Well what I mean is…I feel that you can learn more about a person through the hidden meanings in their living space more than they themselves could ever tell you."

"Oh?" the Ventrue questioned with a raised eyebrow, "And what does my penthouse say about me?" Valeska shot him an anxious glance knowing that this was probably a trap or a test of some kind. She could choose her words carefully by flattering him with things he wanted to hear, or she could be honest and risk angering him. Perhaps a combination of the two would work best here.

"Well just to name a few traits off my head…powerful, sophisticated, wealthy, overachiever, old fashioned yet willing to accept new technology, and…" She paused not wanting to say the last part because of how he might react.

"And?" LaCroix demanded impatiently. So far he seemed rather pleased with what she had said, but that was bound to change in a heartbeat if she finished her statement.

"Lonely…sir," she finished, averting her eyes from his stare of disbelief.

"Me? Lonely? Preposterous!" her boss laughed, "Day in and day out I am surrounded by people from every walk of life, how could I possibly be lonely?"

"Often the man who holds the highest amount of popularity is the loneliest one in the group," Valeska explained. "Something my father used to tell me."

"Well Miss Latimer, I hate to be the individual to shoot down your ever well-formed theory," the Prince began with a hint of sarcasm, "But in this case your assumptions on my supposed desire for companionship are entirely incorrect." Turning to look at her master, she saw that his arms were crossed in a way that made him look like he might throw a temper tantrum of sorts.

"My bad, sir. I guess everyone makes mistakes from time to time." Her words rang hallow, but she honestly didn't care. Rare was it that she gloated about being right, but now was one of those times that if she could have gotten away with it, she would have done so. His current reaction, the empty dusty rooms of his penthouse, and everything else about his character signaled to her that he focused more on his work in order to avoid some kind emotional turmoil he had brewing inside. However, she didn't blame him for wanting to deny this for openly accepting such a claim would have revealed an exploitable weakness.

Since LaCroix didn't say anything to her mediocre apology, she walked a few steps ahead to investigate the sitting room which was quite interesting in appearance. Protruding from the pale walls were ornamental green lanterns that shot out a remarkable illusion of stained glass throughout the small area, while on each opposite side of the room there were either red leather armchairs or a sofa with an end table. The most impressive piece in the room however was a very large and semi disturbing painting that hung on the back wall. In it was a pale, tired old man with, dark bushy eyebrows, light green eyes, a thin long nose, and orange frizzy hair that was greying at the roots. What made it particularly disquieting though was that the portrait seemed to be split in two, with one half covered in bright yellow cartoonish stars, and the other scattered with chilling black creatures that had glowing red eyes. To Valeska, the canvas almost seemed like it had been hung purposefully to reveal an indirect window into Grout's deep dark psyche, and whether this theory was wrong or not, she doubted it had been picked out on accident. Moving a little closer Valeska squinted her eyes. Was it just her or was this portrait moving…?

"Ahh, I see you've been made attention to the allure that is my picturesque self-portrait," an articulate English accented voice spoke. Turning around, Valeska saw an older gentleman who stood with his arms casually placed behind his back. As if she were seeing double, he perfectly resembled the individual in the painting with some minor differences. He had the same thick eyebrows and long greying orange hair, but his wavy mane had been tied back into a hairstyle she was not used to seeing on men. He also had the same facial features and light green eyes, but they were quite attentive and not the least bit tired in appearance. In a way, his style of dressing looked very similar to the way the characters from _Interview with the Vampire_ dressed, for his modern day tuxedo had a few frills here and there that gave him an older century flair. His skin was incredibly pale, even for a vampire, and due to how tall and skinny he was, his long limbs almost made him seem like a spider of sorts. Overall, the man who Valeska knew had to be Aleister Grout was just as eccentric as his manor and its decorations. Such a person was also highly intriguing to her, and she knew that obeying her master's orders in keeping her responses brief was going to be very difficult.

"It's a beautiful and accurate painting," Valeska complimented with a small smile. "If I might also add, it's very unique in its style and originality too." Standing several few feet behind the Malkavian Primogen, was LaCroix who was frowning with aggravation. Was he upset that she had said more than she should have, or was it because Grout chose to address the lowly ghoul before the powerful master? One could never tell with that man since being a sourpuss seemed to be his favorite hobby.

"Do you truly think so? How peculiar you employ such verses, for few individuals find its quintessence worthy of the title of promethean. Indeed, even scarcer are spectators able to comprehend this creation as one of my own, but such is the existence of one whose artistic dilettantism frequently disturbs the psyche," Aleister Grout revealed with a small mysterious smile on his face. "Ah, but you'll have to pardon me for my colloquial and loquacious style of speaking. My hubris can occasionally disrupt the natural ambience of polite conversation."

"It's no trouble at all," Valeska reassured, "Besides, having a healthy level of pride can be good for the mind and its levels of confidence, no?" Blinking back a bit of surprise, the Malkavian closed the distance between them with his footsteps lightly echoing through his foyer.

"I suppose not…" the Primogen agreed, looking her over carefully with a modest amount of curiosity. His gaze was so intense that it almost frightened her, because it felt like he was staring into the depths of her mind. He was silent for a moment before he spoke up again. "Tell me my dear, do you by any chance suffer from epileptic convulsions?"

"Uhm, no?" Valeska responded with a raised eyebrow, finding his question to be insanely odd to ask out of nowhere. Without saying a word Grout took a few steps to his left and began to fiddle with a hidden panel in the wall next to one of the red armchairs. Immediately the steady green lights of the wall lanterns and chandelier switched to a flashing deep blood red which irritated Valeska's eyes slightly. However once her eyes adjusted, she looked back at the painting to understood why he had done, what he had done. Exploding from the back of portrait Grout's head were more stars as the eerie black creatures seemed to expel from his lips and dart along the left side of the painting. She knew that in reality the objects of the canvas only appeared as though they were moving, but it was a neat trick none the less.

"Notice how the metamorphosis in hue from celadon to cinnabar permits for the simplicity of spiritual apathy to change into an impressive epiphany of sorts," Grout explained quickly in an excited tone as he returned to her side. "The refractive prismatic lighting also assists in producing the illusion of moving objects." With his left hand he pointed at a few of the moving stars while his other hand remained in his pocket. It wouldn't surprise her if the Malkavian Primogen didn't have many guests over on a daily basis, but she wondered if he showed this off to everyone who stopped by for a friendly chat.

"This is incredible!" Valeska exclaimed moving closer to examine the painting. "The imagery, the engineering, the hint at something darker...it's…I don't even know if there is a word in the English dictionary that could accurately describe it. Where ever did you get the inspiration to create this?" While she was probably pissing her master off by communicating so heavily with the Malkavian, this would probably be her only chance to speak with the highly intriguing Grout so it was not one she was simply going to pass up.

"Hmm….you know it's been so long…" the Malkavian said in a hushed tone that sounded more like a whisper. As if trying to remember, Grout tilted his head thoughtfully while staring intently at his self-portrait. The lightening had returned to its original pale green and as soon as it did, the Malkavian suddenly spoke up. "It was October 10th of the year 1946. I stood atop my belvedere staring out at the brilliant night sky with my consciousness floating in a state of torpor. I was contemplating aimlessly at the frailty of my existence when I decided to retire prematurely. That same night I experienced a most vivid dream that I can only describe as walking through a hallucinatory trance of wonder and horror that belonged to the hidden spaces of my mind. When I awoke I vowed to give birth to something that could accurately define my journey, and six months later, this was the product of my labor."

"What a fascinating story, and even more amazing to know that your dream motivated you to accomplish this in only six months' time," Valeska said in a slight state of awe. Besides her the Primogen stood smiling, apparently enjoying her continued words of gushing admiration. "Well, Freud did say that dreams are often most profound when they seem the most crazy." She hoped that utilizing her knowledge of psychology would delight the Malkavian further, and though she wasn't entirely sure if it did, it definitely caught his attention.

"Do you hold favor for the late Sigmund Freud's concepts?" he questioned turning to her with both of his hands in his pockets. Physically Valeska was able to turn in order to meet his inquiring eyes, but mentally her thoughts had frozen over. This simple question was actually quite loaded in that her answer could either strongly offend Grout or further develop the friendly connection the two seemed to have with one another. From the corner of her eye she could see LaCroix silently watching them from afar with great interest. Obviously this did little to calm her nerves as he was no doubt judging her ability to maintain the conversation with the Primogen. Knowing that she would have to take a risk, she decided that honesty would probably be her best policy in this instance. If Grout did disagree with her opinion, then she had faith that he would be handle an intellectual debate should one arise.

"Honestly? I found his work to be a load of bull," she expressed bluntly which automatically put a humored smirk on Grout's wrinkled face. Seeing his pleased expression, she continued, "I can appreciate the fact that he was essentially the father of psychology and that he had little to work with during his day, but every time I read about the field of psychoanalysis I find myself laughing at most of his proposed theories. His obsession of sexual desires and how they stem from our childhood is absurd, and don't even get me started on his belief that women are somehow lesser versions of men because they lack the male genitalia. I truly believe that most of his work was probably inspired by his opium addiction rather than actual logic, but I guess we'll never know." Grout was silent for a moment as though he were musing over her words, while her master looked incredibly surprised for some reason.

"What an adroit young woman you are. I do not believe I've had the delight of officially making your acquaintance for surely I would have recalled such a charming aesthete," Grout began, "Allow me to inaugurate this exchange of titles then: My name is Doctor Aleister Grout, renowned psychiatrist, Malkavian Primogen, and host of this amiable congregation." With that the Primogen held out his hand for her to shake, which she did. Before releasing it however, he brought her hand up to his mouth in order to gently brush it with a small kiss. It was a gentlemanly move to make, and one that was no doubt common during his time period which she was still trying to figure out. For some reason, LaCroix had never given her this knowledge (which would have better helped her plan her interactions in advance), but if she were to take a guess by his accent, unique speech pattern, style of dressing, and actions, she would have said he was originally from England during the 1800's.

"It's a pleasure to meet you doctor. I'm Valeska Latimer, humble ghoul to my master, Prince LaCroix," she replied. Almost immediately the Primogen retracted his hand from hers like she had badly burned him.

"I-I see…I was not aware the Prince had such servants in his employ," the nervous doctor stated. His eyes which before had been full of fascination with Valeska, had quickly been replaced with a high level of suspicion as she could practically see that he was mentally reevaluating her character. Her boss had been correct in his assumption of Grout's paranoia, for just the simple mention of her affiliation with the Ventrue Prince had driven him to wear his mistrust upon his sleeve.

"Times change, as do we all," LaCroix announced walking up to the pair with his Sheriff towering behind him. She hadn't even heard the colossal being enter the manor, but that was probably due to her distraction with the good doctor.

As the Prince neared the Malkavian Primogen, the environment of the room changed suddenly and drastically. A high level of tension sprung up between the two elders and it was so heavy that Valeska swore she could have suffocated had it been any worse. Dr. Grout, who had stood so tall and proud before was only a few steps above cowering in the presence of Sebastian LaCroix who seemed to be relatively pleased with the power he held in the situation. Often it was the Sheriff that intimidated Valeska more, but in that very moment, the amount of energy that her master seemed to command chilled her right to the bone. It was as if the Prince was mentally grasping his opponent by the throat, but in the same eerily calm way he had literally done with her landlord. It was a startling discovery for her to see what her master was capable of, and it was a side to him that frightened her nearly as much as it did the Malkavian psychiatrist.

"A pleasure as always to see you again Dr. Grout, it's been far too long since we've had an opportune moment to converse," LaCroix pointed out calmly before holding his hand out for Grout to shake. To maintain some level of civility, the Primogen hesitantly grasped LaCroix's hand and shook it firmly with an obligatory smile.

"Indeed, these lengthy atramentous nights preclude even the most significant of conversations," Grout agreed as calmly as he could. Part of him seemed quite distracted, like somehow he was speaking with five people at once, but it could have just been his nerves.

"Myself and the other Primogen missed your presence during the last conference doctor, but I was certain my secretary forwarded the meeting time to you via telephone. Did you not receive it?" the pale Prince queried. As LaCroix spoke, not once did his cold grey eyes leave Grout's nervous green ones, and in a small way it seemed like he was purposefully taunting the poor doctor. It wasn't something Valeska enjoyed seeing either as she was just starting to hold favor with the Malkavian who hadn't outright done anything offensive to anyone as far as she knew. Still, she had a job to complete so getting attached to the Primogen wasn't a wise thing to do. No matter how blameless he might have appeared, he was a serious enough threat that her master had assigned her to her current task.

"Ah forgive me Prince LaCroix. I was preoccupied with my studies which regrettably have been proceeding at a languid pace. It's vexing to know that the answers to my queries lay within reaching distance, but night after night they serve to elude me," the Malkavian psychiatrist informed the Ventrue Prince. There was a little less unease in his voice and it seemed as though he had regained a bit of his composure. Perhaps it had just been his surprise that had overcome him when he saw LaCroix, but she doubted it. Obviously he was terrified of her master, but at that moment he was acting like a completely different person. It was quite inspiring to see such a believable performance, but since Grout's paranoia had already been revealed, it was less impressive than it could have been.

The two continued to converse for the next few minutes and if Valeska hadn't known better, she would have said that they were having nothing more than a casual every day conversation. Yet she did know better and it was mesmerizing to see the two go back and forth with words that seemed to have hidden meanings behind them. Literally standing before her were two individuals who possessed vastly different objectives as well as the means they would utilize in order to achieve them. Although she wasn't aware of what their individual goals were, she knew that neither one of them would rest until they were made complete. It seemed then that the pair resorted to a mild battle of wits in order to pass the time, with one opponent indirectly taunting the other and vice versa. LaCroix appeared to be a master at this game, while Grout on the other hand appeared as a newcomer with little knowledge of the rules. The Malkavian could simply have been disguising his true capabilities out of fear, but she honestly couldn't tell anymore between what was real and what was the product of a practiced performance. It made Valeska wonder if all vampires had such strained relationships with one another or if these manipulative games were the norm.

"Well this has been quite the thought provoking jaunt, but lamentably I must attend to the influx of guests upon my entrance doorstep," Grout informed the small group. "Venture down this passage to the left and you shall happen upon the ballroom. You all appear quite famished I might add, so please feel free to indulge yourselves in the hors d'oeuvres I've had prepared. There is a large variety I am certain both vampires and ghouls alike should appreciate, so if you will excuse me. Prince LaCroix." He turned to Valeska. "Miss Latimer."

LaCroix simply nodded, allowing the Primogen to walk off and leave the Prince, Valeska, and the Sheriff to stare after the doctor hurrying to answer his front door. Exhaling deeply, LaCroix shot an unreadable glance at his ghoul before taking off toward the ballroom. His Sheriff was no doubt always watchful and ready to move when his master did, but Valeska was not. Scrunching up a handful of her dress so she would not trip over it, she had to run down the red carpeted hallway in order to catch up with her boss.

"Sir I th-," she began before being harshly cut off.

"I gave you a strict set of instructions not to speak unless spoken to," he snapped, taking her for surprise. "Are you so dense that you cannot comprehend a simple command?" He had stopped right before entering the supposed ballroom and was angrily glaring down his nose at her. No one was around to see this explosive display however, so she was left to cower before his presence while waiting for him to finish his lecture.

"I-I'm sorry, sir," she apologized. "I thought you were the exception to this rule." Before she could explain herself further, the sound of footsteps could be heard from behind them. Immediately LaCroix's icy glare vanished as his attention was drawn to whoever he now saw.

"Ah Prince Sebastian LaCroix!" a confident female voice proclaimed. Walking past Valeska as if she weren't even there, was a pale woman dressed in a reserved yet very beautiful white gown. Like Valeska she wore a pair of glasses and her blonde hair had been pulled back into a tight bun. Unlike Valeska's demure behavior though, everything about this woman's sharp facial features to the way she stood showed that she could have easily commanded an entire room with little to no effort. It was like looking at the female version of her boss and she wondered if she too belonged to the Ventrue clan. She definitely had the whole business persona going on, so it wouldn't be surprising if she was.

"Miss Therese Voerman," the pale Prince retorted with a polite somewhat forced smile on his face.

"Just the brain I was hoping to pick in regards to my most promising business venture," Therese began, "First however, allow me to apologize on my sister's behalf for the vulgar email she recently sent you. Had I realized she had secretly acquired your email address from my computer, I would have immediately stepped in and prevented her ill-mannered actions. None the less she has been severely punished, so I can assure you with a high degree of confidence that any events similar to this one will _not _repeat themselves in the future."

"I would hope not, Miss Voerman, for if you ever hope to obtain any standing recognition with the Camarilla in the near future, then I would advise to putting a tight leash around the neck of that insolent sibling of yours," LaCroix suggested with more than a bit of irritation. As if the frustration in his voice weren't obvious enough, he already looked quite ticked off at having to be reminded of whatever message he had received from Therese's sister. Valeska had half a mind to hack into his computer just to figure out what it was, as it would no doubt provide a much needed laugh. Part of her also hoped that this trickster sister would show up that evening just so she would have someone to trade tales of mischief with.

"Of course, my Prince," Therese quickly agreed, "Now I…" She paused and stared at Valeska as if she were only now just realizing that someone else was there. "Who's this?"

"My ghoul," the Prince answered dully, "She's insignificant, but if you desire privacy then we can go elsewhere." Valeska's heart felt like it had literally been stabbed square in its center. Sure she had been insulted by him before, but to be blatantly labeled as a no one and especially in front of another person no less, was like shoving salt in a wound. It was incredibly painful, and she had to wonder if he had purposefully said that due to her earlier insubordination. Deep down she wanted to break his jaw for his rude comments, but she knew displaying more rebellious behavior was not going to get her what she wanted. If she wanted to appear as a noteworthy individual in the Prince's life, then she would have to work at it. If that meant being seen as a pile of garbage until she proved herself, then so be it.

"Yes, please," Therese requested. As if to add further insult to injury, Therese's lips deliberately curled up into a sneer as if to show just how disgusted she was with Valeska. Hurtful as it was, the snobbish vampire was acting like the ghoul before her had some kind of contagious disease, and it was taking all of Valeska's willpower to restrain herself from shaking Therese's hand. The result of said action would have been hilarious to witness, and the image alone of the prude woman frantically waving her hand to shake loose Valeska's cooties brought a small smile to the ghoul's face which in turn lightened her moods. What made the moment even more amusing was that Therese accidently attributed Valeska's current smile as an act of courtesy, and though obviously forced, she allowed the ghoul a smile of her own. LaCroix on the other hand had seen right through Valeska's little act and he shot her a glare that probably meant in crude terms that she had better knock it off or he would lecture the shit out of her later.

Silently Valeska directed her attention to the ground, and waited for the small group of vampires to walk ahead of her and into the ballroom. Deciding that she wasn't about to stand all night in the hall awaiting her next set of orders, she took the initiative to follow them inside, but move to the side of the room. In this way they would have their privacy, and she would be perfectly positioned to eavesdrop before sneaking off to explore the manor later on. It would be awhile before more vampires started to arrive, so she began to look around to distract herself.

The ballroom was probably the largest room she had seen so far in the mansion, and it more or less matched the décor of the rest of the house with the same type of flooring, wallpaper, and lanterns (these ones were red in color though). However the ceilings here were even higher than the previous rooms, and what was particularly odd was that there was a huge staircase that lead directly up to the roof. There wasn't even an apparent opening, just short but horizontally long stairs and then the ceiling. Following the stairs down with her eyes, she spotted a few internal balconies that permitted her to see the different parts of the second story. All along the underside of the wooden banisters to the balconies, were interesting metal inlays that looked a lot like dark chocolate melting down the upper half of the pale walls. The last noteworthy thing about the ballroom, was that placed up against the walls was a handful of soft looking couches, as well as a few buffet tables that Valeska decided to sample.

Approaching the buffet tables, she was sad to see that there was very little human food for her to munch on. It wasn't surprising seeing as how many of the guests would be from the ranks of the undead, but seeing all the wine glasses and punchbowls full of blood made her stomach churn. Her curiosity distracted her from her queasiness however as each table had been labeled with a different letter: A, B, AB, and O. After a short moment of contemplation, she realized that each of these letters signaled a different type of blood.

Looking back at the food set out for mortals, she found the selection to be kind of funny. To her it almost seemed like it had been thrown together at the last minute by a vampire who had raided a vending machine. Picking up a small bag of plain potato chips, she settled herself down onto one of the sofas. It would be awhile before anyone arrived, so while munching at her chips, she readied herself for what was certainly going to be a very long night.

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**Author's Note:** So that was Chapter 20, probably the most difficult one I've worked on because of Grout. I was conflicted with how to take his character so I decided to just make him sound like he did in his recordings to the best of my abilities. I made him a bit paranoid around LaCroix including the whole distracted aspect because of his internal voices, but I didn't want to make it to where he was completely incapable of conversing with the Prince. Grout's creepy and cold hearted factor will be kept hidden until Valeska explores his mansion later on, so don't worry about that! Therese was relatively easy to write (female LaCroix!), and I decided to have her dressed in white due to her whole illusion with being pure. Lots of other tidbits I could explain, but I'll leave it to the reader to comment on what they want, if they want. The next chapter will be the one to have more of the main characters we all know and love who may or may not interact with Valeska (haven't decided yet). To name just a few: Strauss, VV, Gary, Imalia, etc. Stay tuned and drop a review if you can! Thanks! ^_^


	22. Mingling with the Dead

**Author's Notes:** Okey dokey, so in this chapter we have Gary, Imalia, Strauss (though he won't have any lines until the next chapter), and Miss Velvet Velour. V.V. was somewhat difficult to write for seeing as how when it comes to her character, you either hate her or you love her. Like with Therese, I tend to fall somewhere in between those two extremes. I know that technically, V.V. is the childe of Anarch Baron, Isaac Abrams, but she never really stated what her political views were. I figured she would jump at the chance to socialize and show off, so that's why she's at a Primogen's dinner party. Now hopefully I didn't butcher the sensitive dancer/poet too badly in this chapter, but I guess we'll see. My chapters might extend in release time as I have yet again, come down with something with a fever of 102.5! =( Sorry for that fans, but in the meantime, enjoy the chapter!

**Special Thanks:** Thank you to all of my readers that continue to keep me inspired, I love ya all! I would especially like to thank CandyPrincess64 for following and faving my story, and of course the reviewers of the last chapter who are Sasha Naruto, myobsidianbutterfly, aberdeenkev, LadylayDE, and Sof!

**Responses: **To Sasha Naruto: I'm so glad to hear that you enjoyed my portrayal of Grout! I always respected Therese, but at the same time I can fully admire someone while hating their guts. Therese falls into the category for me. LaCroix snapping at Val I pretty much did to show his irritation with the situation in general. He needed to direct his anger at someone, so why not his ghoul? By the way, I forgot to say so on the last review but I really liked that vampire song you shared!

To myobsidianbutterfly: It was difficult to write for Grout, but I'm glad you think I did well! It seems that many people hate Therese, and while having Jeanette pop up right now won't happen, she will appear later in the story (possibly to embarrass her sister, not sure yet). Yes to seeing the email, and yes to Gary reappearing (in this chapter too!).

To aberdeenkev: Thanks for the compliments on my portrayal of Grout's character! Valeska will probably not find Grout's wife, but she might find information pertaining to her, haven't decided yet.

To LadylayDE: Yay, more compliments on Grout! Coming up here soon I'm going to attempt to write a chapter through Grout's POV, so you'll probably get your wish on hearing his voices. :D Therese at many points in the game hints at being a Ventrue, so that's a big reason I made her act that way. I'm not sure Val at this point would jump from Venture Tower if LaCroix ordered her to do so, unless of course he gave her a very good reason (which knowing him, he probably could). Also, glad you find my portrayal of LaCroix to be graceful! It can be a difficult line to walk with him, with being both a polite gentleman, but an arrogant power hungry prick at the same time.

To Sof: No problem on that minor mistake, it's not a big deal. ^_^ I'm so happy that you really enjoyed the last chapter and that my portrayal of all the characters continues to be in sync with their personalities. I'm always worried about how Valeska might come across to people, so it's awesome to hear you love her!

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**Chapter 21 Mingling with the Dead **

Three bags of potato chips and a Snickers bar later, Valeska was insanely bored. Here she was, supposed to be eavesdropping on polite vampire conversation throughout the room, and she was still seated lazily on the couch. She would have gotten up to walk around, but so far everyone who had entered the ballroom had regarded her with a high level of suspicion that prevented her from doing much of anything. She wished she had someone to talk to, for they would have not only served to keep her company, but they would have been incredibly helpful in drawing away the mistrustful eyes of the other guests. Was it that a large majority of Grout's visitors were Malkavian, or were all vampires this paranoid? The answer to said questioned continued to elude her, but even if she had it, it wouldn't have changed her current situation of idleness.

Prince LaCroix would have no doubt been cross with her actions (when wasn't he?), but currently he was too busy socializing with a small group of vampires to notice or care about his ghoul. He was an important person so she couldn't really blame him, but it didn't stop her levels of irritation from steadily rising inside of her. She wasn't a party person, and being under the rule that she couldn't speak to anyone unless spoken to made it so she had no motivation to do anything. It would have just made her feel more awkward, so she stayed on the sofa trying to entertain herself with her surroundings.

To curb her growing boredom, she took to examining each new guest she saw, deciding that guessing which clan they belonged to would have been amusing. The first man to enter the room was undoubtedly the most interesting person she had seen that evening, and that was saying a lot. Indisputably a vampire due to how light grey his skin was, the man whose apparent age was probably in his early forties could have easily rivaled the Sheriff with how tall he was. His head was bald, he possessed small bright orange spectacles, and his blood red attire could only be described as a modern yet formal wizard robe of sorts. It sounded so weird to mentally call it that too, but in addition to the unsettling aura that practically swirled around him, labeling him as a warlock intuitively made sense to her. There was a humorous side to his appearance though, because in a small way he closely resembled Morpheus from _The Matrix_ series. This was something she would definitely have to keep to herself, for she doubted that anyone in the room would share her opinion on the seemingly important man standing in the doorway.

Deciding to group him with the Tremere clan, the mysterious man unexpectedly began to stare straight into her eyes as if he were somehow reading her mind. Finding herself unable to tear away from his intense and unnerving gaze, she simply sat still as a statue waiting for him to make the next move. His face was entirely unreadable, but if she were to take a guess, it seemed like he might have noticed something unexpected about her. Right as it looked like he might start walking toward her in order to strike up a conversation, a new person arrived drawing not only the supposed wizard's attention, but nearly every other man in the room as well.

The woman, who had raspberry red colored hair and flawless physical features, was dressed in a provocative hot pink dress that left little to the imagination. It was questionable whether or not she was human for unlike her undead counterparts her noticeably seductive disposition appeared to be quite animated. She was absolutely beautiful, and it was evident that she knew it for when she walked she purposefully swayed her hips in an almost hypnotic dance. On her soft doll like face was an expression of pure ecstasy as she soaked up the stares of the personages throughout the ballroom while even shooting a few of them suggestive smirks. However, out of everyone around her, the first person she chose to converse with was the bald, spectacle wearing vampire that Valeska had assumed to be a warlock.

While the sultry female was quite avid on initiating a conversation with the Morpheus look alike, he on the other hand seemed hesitant to do so. Not really giving him a chance to decide what he wanted to do, the woman whose clan was impossible for Valeska to determine (if she was even a vampire), pulled the warlock off to the side of the room to start their chat. Judging by her appearance and behavior, it was clear that the woman probably had more than the simple exchange of words on her mind, but already the wizard seemed entirely uninterested with her advances. Despite this there was no escape for him, and so he was left to shoot Valeska a last glance that she deciphered as a promise that they would converse at a later time.

Glad that the man's eyes were finally off her, Valeska redirected her attention to the ballroom entrance. As soon as she did, a pair of vampires strutted through the doorway and she hadn't had to guess at which clan they belonged to for it was apparent that these unfortunate beings were Nosferatus. While she did not recognize the female Nosferatu whose snarky attitude was quickly polluting the atmosphere of the party, the male she joyfully realized was Gorgeous Gary Golden donning a top hat of all things. Almost as if he knew she was watching him, her favorite actor of all time made eye contact with Valeska and sent her a wink before leading his female counterpart to the buffet tables. They stood far away enough from the ghoul, but Valeska was still able to make out a bit of their heated argument.

"Why the hell did you bring me here?" the woman hissed angrily with a voice that sounded like it had gargled glass. Her hands were resting on her hips in a defiant manner, and she looked downright pissed. Even for a Nosferatu she was horribly hideous, with bits of her green scaly skin rotting off on her arms, face, and chest. Her furious eyes resembled a pair of yellow marbles, and Valeska made sure not to stare directly into them for the fear that she would probably retaliate. Ironically the woman was dressed in a bright red and sparkly strapless dress that like Gary's fancy attire, almost served as a mockery to the rest of her exterior appearance.

"I thought it would be good for you to get out of the house, Imalia," Gary explained in his raspy voice. In a way it sounded like he was cruelly taunting her, but everything about his character made Valeska think that he took pure delight in watching others suffer (even if they belonged to his clan).

"Looking like this?!" she demanded gruffly while pointing at her face that looked like someone had tried to fillet it with a nail filer. "Did you even see how many people were outside? Did you?! They're all going to see me!"

"But I thought you liked getting attention from the boys," he continued in a tone that sounded like he were talking to a five year old. "Maybe if I got you a gum wrapper and a pair of bottle caps you'd feel more comfortable." When the female known as Imalia didn't look amused, Gary sighed and spoke again. "Listen Cleopatra, you've been stewing in your own self-hate for months now, and I'm sick to my unlife of it. Now you're either going to embrace who you are or gather up some new ingredients to change the flavor of your stew, because enough is enough."

"Whatever, and stop calling me Cleopatra," she snapped, "My name is _Imalia_." The high amount of emphasis she placed on her name caused Gary to scoff as he picked up a wine glass from the table labeled A. In a further state of defiance Imalia turned her back to Gary, but in the process she caught sight of Valeska. The ghoul wasn't outright staring at the woman, but she was glancing sideways at her, and that set the Nosferatu off. "What the hell are you looking at?!"

"I'm not sure," Valeska responded, "You're not contagious are you?" It was probably the most idiotic thing she could have said in the situation, especially since LaCroix had ordered her to keep her responses brief, but the woman desperately needed an attitude adjustment. She was acting like god's gift to men when she had no reason to behave as such, and her temper was shorter than the Prince's which alone said a lot. Valeska was already irritated at having nothing to do, and having to listen to some screeching banshee insulting her role model had pushed her over her limit of putting up with bullshit. Her comment that came so naturally to her though, caused Imalia's jaw to drop in shock and Gary to burst into a chilling fit of laughter.

"WHAT?! What did you just say to me?" Imalia demanded taking a threatening step toward Valeska. Gary was still laughing, but he was able to catch his breath in time to intervene before things got messy.

"Now, now Imalia," Gorgeous Gary began, "Our young friend here is simply trying to help boost your confidence levels. You should thank her."

"Fuck that!" Imalia screeched drawing the attention of a few nearby vampires, "I'm going back to the sewers where my hideous face belongs and don't you DARE try to stop me either!" With that, Imalia vanished from thin air, even though the angry stomping of her heels could be heard click clacking toward the exit.

"Uhm…nice girlfriend you've got there," Valeska sarcastically complimented. "Think she might have some severe anger management issues though." Gary simply laughed a bit more and then wiped an imaginary tear from his eyes.

"She's not my lover, doll. Figuratively speaking she's my daughter, but right now she's going through her rebellious undead teen years," Gary informed the ghoul with a smirk as he walked closer to her.

"Ah, well then I'm sorry for provoking her," she apologized half-heartedly. She wasn't really sorry, but since she held a high degree of respect toward the former actor, she felt it necessary to apologize.

"Don't waste your breath. Not every Nosferatu can walk with their head held high, so I knew sooner or later someone was going to push her buttons or in your case, rip them off entirely. I did hope she would last longer with this little test I contrived for her though…oh well," the Nosferatu said nonchalantly with a shrug. If Valeska hadn't heard the argument shared between Gary and Imalia from earlier, she might have said that her role model was nothing more than a cold hearted bastard. Seeing as she had however, she couldn't be too harsh in her judgment of Gary's actions, no matter how cruel they may have seemed to her.

"Well none the less I am sorry for setting her off," Valeska apologized again, this time with a little more candidness behind her words. "I just wasn't in the mood for walking on eggshells around yet _another _vampire."

"Finding out undead life ain't all it's cracked out to be eh, doll? Well that's ok. If you think you're having fun now, just wait till' you get mouthful of juicy vampire politics later on!" Gary teased while smacking his lips in an annoying manner.

"Oh joy," Valeska responded dryly before resting the side of her face in the palm of her hand. She could only pray at this point that her boss wouldn't catch sight of the two chatting, for if he did he might grow suspicious. The last thing she needed was being surrounded by mistrustful vampires, and then to be lectured and interrogated to death by the Prince of paranoia himself.

"Ghehehe, your enthusiasm would make Prince Priss proud. Speaking of which, I'm surprised he actually brought you here," the former actor divulged while twirling the neck of his glass in between his long fingers.

"Oh?" she asked turning her head toward the Nosferatu with mild interest, "Why would that come as a surprise?"

"Well I'm used to seeing Princey's favorite ghoul, Mercurio, at these gatherings," the Nosferatu explained. "It leaves me wondering what you must have done to become teacher's pet so quickly, doll."

Valeska simply stared at the former actor while mentally crediting the level of intelligence he had. In a sort of subtle way he was goading her with an insult into defending against his slander. Ultimately this would have led to her revealing why she was at the party while at the same time exposing to Gary exactly what the Prince's true motives were. It was a smart move, and one that she contemplated calling him out on just prove that she wasn't an idiot. Still, only a few nights ago they had come to an agreement that she would inform him of LaCroix's moves in return for information and assistance that she might need in the future. Why then, was he playing this game with her?

"Were you hoping I'd say something to betray the Prince?" Valeska inquired coolly while confidently meeting Gary's eyes with her own. A deal was a deal, but she wasn't going to openly tell the Nosferatu anything unless they were alone. At least she hoped that was why she was staying quiet, and not because of some loyalty her master had magically inspired.

"Of course not, we're in a public setting after all. You never know when someone might be listening in," he said quietly, carefully gesturing toward the others. "I would know all about eavesdroppers seeing as how more than half the eyes and ears of the night belong to me." While Gary wasn't outright threatening her, there was a bit of darkness behind his words that almost sounded like he either already knew why she was there, or that he would retaliate against her with his minions should she choose to go back on their deal. It was probably a bit of both, but damned if Gary didn't know how to be intimidating when it was needed.

"Then why the obvious attempt to goad me into confession?" she asked with more than a bit of confusion. She would have reassured him that she wasn't going to go back on their deal, but like Gary had said, she couldn't know who was listening in on their conversation. At this point, nothing about a deal had even been brought up between the two so she decided it would be best if they kept it this way.

"Because I like testing people, doll, toying with them until I know what makes them tick," Gary confessed with a cluck of his tongue, "It's nothing personal, but an information broker has to be prepared for anything." Valeska simply nodded to signal that she understood where he was coming from. After all, she wouldn't want to be judged by the type of work she did, so she couldn't really hold his actions against him without being called a hypocrite. The former actor merely smiled a wicked grin as though he could see these thoughts of hers, before he took a sip of blood from his glass "Mm mm MM! I simply love the flavor of innocent blood spilt on behalf of a Malkavian dinner party, don't you?"

"You and I have very different tastes, Mr. Golden," Valeska pointed out, completely unfazed by his disturbing words. It wasn't that he didn't give her the creeps, because he did. She just didn't want to let him know that since he appeared to be desperately grasping for any weakness she might have. Was he still her favorite and most respected role model of all time? Yes, and even more so now that she knew what he was like in person. But did she trust him for as far as she could throw him? Not for a second, but neither did she trust any other vampire she had met up to this night. She found it ironic that she was just as paranoid as the other guests she had been mentally bashing, and noted how sad it was that the only person in her new life that she really felt she could trust was Mercurio.

"Well I would love to sit all night giving you the heebie geebies, but my favorite Malkavian just became available for a friendly chat," the former actor said while subtly pointing at Therese Voerman.

"She's a Malkavian?" the ghoul inquired in disbelief, eyeing the pretentious woman at the far end of the room. "I was so sure by her temperament that she was a Ventrue…"

"Hah! And I'm sure she would love for you to tell her that, doll, but that wannabe blue blood is as loony as loonies come," he enthusiastically described before downing the rest of his drink, "I'll leave it to you to figure out why." With that he left her to remain on the sofa, as he made his way to the Malkavian who was clearly uncomfortable with having to witness the Nosferatu B-lining it to her.

Expecting something exciting to happen, Valeska instead sighed unhappily when it seemed like Therese was firmly standing her ground against whatever it was Gary was saying to her. She would have loved to see that woman knocked down a few notches, but while her role model was no doubt a mischief maker, he did not seem the type to start trouble unless he had a good reason. More than likely he was striking up some kind of deal based on blackmail or something, but she couldn't be sure seeing as how they were all the way on the other side of the room.

"And who might you be?" a soft spoken female voice asked gently. Turning to see who had addressed Valeska, she saw that standing beside her was the raspberry red haired woman. On her ruby lips she wore a small, friendly smile as she waited patiently for the ghoul to reply.

"Oh uhm, Valeska Latimer ma'am," Valeska answered courteously while standing up. She wasn't sure what compelled her to rise from the sofa, but when she did, she got the chance to stare into the woman's striking silver eyes. Was it even possible for such a color to exist in a person's iris, or was she simply wearing contacts? "I'm Prince LaCroix's ghoul." Expecting the woman to be disgusted by her added statement like Therese had been, instead it looked like she had experienced a moment of revelation.

"Ahh, now it all makes sense. Sebastian always did have such good taste in the company he kept," the woman said in the same alluring tone of voice. As she spoke, Valeska caught sight of two rather sharp incisors, which revealed to the ghoul, that she was a vampire. "My name is Miss Velvet Velour, but please, call me V.V. Now I bet you're curious as to why I've approached you when no one else has."

"A little," Valeska hesitantly admitted, "So far I've been avoided like the ravenous plagues of medieval England." Velvet chuckled softly and glanced down demurely, before looking back up through her eyelashes. Was she actually trying to seduce Valeska? It certainly seemed that was what she was doing, but while V.V. as she had called herself was quite attractive, the ghoul simply didn't swing that way. Perhaps it was that she saw Valeska more as a tasty snack, and was instead utilizing feminine charm to lure the ghoul into a sense of safety before springing her trap. Would she really tread on the Prince's territory like that? She didn't know the woman well enough to know what she had planned, so Valeska simply vowed to stay on her toes while they shared their little talk.

"Well Valeska," she began, letting the ghoul's name roll off her tongue, "It's because you're different, but not in a bad way. Even from across the room I could hear the rhythm of your heart beating in such an unusual manner that I found myself entranced by the tune of it."

"My…heartbeat is what made you want to talk with me…?" Valeska inquired with partial disbelief and a raised eyebrow. This one had to be Malkavian; there were no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

"Yes. Most souls I run into have such steady, dull pulse rates that usually tell me all about their personality before I even have to say hello. Somehow though, yours beats quickly and slowly at the same time that I struggle with how to describe it. It's almost like standing on a calm white beach with a treacherous storm brewing on the distance horizon," Velvet hurriedly described, "Your expressions appear cold and there is a certain darkness to you, but yet your heart tells me that you feel more strongly and deeply than anyone I've ever encountered. You are…" She paused and exhaled deeply. "A beautiful contradiction."

The only thing Valeska found herself capable of doing at that point, was blinking blankly and standing speechless. The words V.V. had used to describe Valeska were probably the most chillingly accurate set anyone had ever employed that it had completely thrown the ghoul for a loop. The way it had been said had been done so beautifully too, that she couldn't for the life of her think of one thing she could possibly say in response. The only thing she could hope for was that this vixen hadn't really planned on sampling her blood, because so far she had effectively lowered Valeska's guard not out of trust, but out of pure astonishment.

"Oh…I seem to have offended you. I'm terribly sorry for bothering you…," the poetic vampire apologized sadly with an expression that made it look like she had just lost her only child. With her shoulders hunched slightly, she turned to leave.

"No, wait! I'm not offended!" Valeska exclaimed, not wanting this insightful person to leave her yet. Velvet quickly turned around, her shiny silver eyes wide and anxious. "I just wasn't sure how to react because no one has ever been able to describe me in such an accurate and beautiful way before."

"You really liked it?" V.V. asked with a pleased grin, "I spent a few minutes trying to come up with the perfect words to describe you, so I'm thrilled to hear that they weren't wasted."

"No, they definitely weren't wasted," Valeska reassured, "Are you a poet by any chance? I only ask because you sound like you have a lot of experience with openly expressing yourself."

"How captivating of you to notice. I am a poet, though it's more of a hobby compared to my real profession. I'm a dancer you see, but I believe that any kind of physical movement when done correctly can be considered an art form in itself…" V.V. hinted suggestively. Once again it seemed like the woman was coming onto Valeska by indirectly flirting with her, but all she wanted was to keep their relationship as professional as possible.

"You mean like ballet? I absolutely love ballet, and believe it or not I actually took it in high school," Valeska revealed. It was her attempt at keeping the mood light and enjoyable for the both of them, but Velvet's seductive expression remained glued to her face.

"Mmm, not exactly darling. Think more…_exotic_," Velvet corrected, taking a step toward the nervous ghoul who was slowly starting to piece everything together. V.V. being a stripper made perfect sense in that it showed in her body language and the way she carried herself. While Valeska held nothing against exotic dancers, she still wasn't comfortable with the current advances being made toward her. At least she now knew how the Morpheus look alike from earlier had felt when he had been cornered by the sultry stripper.

"Sounds like an exciting career…but uh…which clan are you from?" Valeska asked trying to change topics. Due to the insight Velvet had on Valeska's personality, and the interesting way in which she revealed said knowledge, the ghoul still had her bets on the woman being a Malkavian. She didn't want to outright ask if she were from the clan of lunatics though, for this would have been very insulting to anyone who wasn't aligned with them. Essentially it would have been the equivalence of telling someone that they appeared insane to others, so this had to be avoided unless she wished to risk the friendly ambience of their conversation.

"Take a guess," Velvet ordered after taking yet another step toward Valeska. The ghoul took a step of her own backwards but instead of encountering empty space, her legs hit the back of the couch. She was beginning to think that stopping V.V. from leaving only moments ago had been a very huge mistake, for currently the dancer's eyes were filled with a lusting hunger that made Valeska feel like she was being viewed as a sumptuous meal. She contemplated telling the seemingly famished vampire that she saw her as a Malkavian in the hopes that she would get offended and leave, but seeing as how she probably did belong to that clan, it would only serve as a further compliment. Then it hit her.

Sensitive poet? Deep and alluring personality? Perfect exterior beauty? She was a Toreador, not a Malkavian! Of course V.V. would belong to the clan of artists that Valeska knew nothing about, rather than the one that fascinated her the most: the mentally insane Malkavians. Mentally she scolded herself at her ignorance, but then realized that this was exactly what she needed to get the vampire poet off her back.

"Malkavian?" Valeska guessed with feigned innocence. As expected, Velvet halted her advances entirely and looked incredibly hurt.

"You…you think I'm a Malkavian?" she questioned softly, almost looking like she might cry. No matter how interesting and deep the woman was, Valeska found herself slightly annoyed by her childish crybaby antics.

"You're not?" Valeska countered with false doubt that she hoped was believable.

"No…I'm a Toreador…" Velvet rectified, her pain being replaced with mild aggravation. "I thought it was obvious."

"Sorry," was all the ghoul said with a bored shrug. While Valeska was desperate to have someone to converse with, having the company of someone who saw her as dinner was not what she had in mind. Still, she really shouldn't have expected any better from the vampire guests seeing as how she was nothing but a piece of meat to them.

Right as it looked like Velvet was about to say something, the sound of soft classical music filling the room prevented her from doing so. Turning around, the dancer stood on her tip toes in order to look over the crowd that had grown in size to about thirty or forty people. It appeared as though she was frantically searching for someone, but eventually her gaze stopped when she caught sight of the bald man she had been chatting with earlier. In an exaggerated manner, the dancer lifted her arm and waved enthusiastically at the Morpheus look alike.

To Valeska's dismay though, the spectacle wearing vampire was already staring in their direction, but more specifically, directly at LaCroix's ghoul. Unlike Velvet, who had been ogling Valeska with hunger, he instead seemed to be watching her intently with what she hoped was curiosity. It was really giving her the creeps, and she only hoped that his intentions were not malicious. She didn't think she could handle a second vampire misleadingly flirting with her in order to fill their empty stomach.

"It was wonderful chatting with you Valeska, but I was promised a dance that I plan to cash in on," V.V. hurriedly explained with a bit of school girlish excitement. She failed to give the ghoul a chance to grant the dancer a farewell of her own, but Valeska really didn't care as she was just happy at finally being left alone.

Valeska watched with mild interest as the dancer skillfully maneuvered through the crowd of other vampires, and snatched up the bald vampire's arm in order to start dancing with him. A flash of irritation skittered across his face, before it returned to its usual expressionless mask. Many of the other guests also took up their own partner to dance with, and while they were technically in a ballroom, Valeska still found herself surprised. She had never seen any kind of formal dancing done in person before, except in relatively old films and musicals. What she found to be particularly odd about their style of movement though, was that a large percentage of people dancing did not appear to be happy. Instead they all resembled the spectacle wearing vampire with expressionless faces, as though they were only dancing because it was mandated. Velvet appeared to be having the time of her life of course, but since she was a Toreador who embraced her human side more than the other clans, Valeska didn't really count her into the equation.

Wondering what she would do with herself now, Valeska began to search the room for her master. She didn't spot him anywhere though, and for some reason a feeling of intense anxiety began to build up inside of her. Even if it weren't obvious, LaCroix was essentially in enemy territory (or so he viewed it), so for all she knew he had been stealthily taken to another area to be tortured or something equally gruesome. It seemed absurd that such an unlikely possibility would seem not only plausible to her, but that it would bother her so heavily too. Even if her motivation was inspired by paranoia though, she had to find him. She had to make sure he was alright, and that no harm was being bestowed upon him.

Seeing as how she was already standing, Valeska took to walking the outskirts of the room in order to find LaCroix. Since a handful of the guests were not dancing, she had to push past them while frequently uttering excuse me, and pardon me. Probably the main reason why she disliked parties so much was because she absolutely despised crowds. More than once in her past had she come under fire from an anxiety attack, and more than once the underlying cause was because she had been confronted with a large group of people. At most there were only about forty people or so, but combined with her anxiety of making sure her master was ok, she was understandably close to being overwhelmed. Already she was starting to experience the beginning symptoms of a panic attack, such as sweating, heavy breathing, and tunnel vision. She couldn't really hear anything other than her own heart beating loudly in her ears though, as her sense of sound had pretty much blocked out everything else. She was trying to calm herself down by taking slow, deep breaths, but it wasn't working. Right as she thought she might give in to the final stages of an anxiety attack, she heard a distant voice.

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**Author's Note:** Now I know I've been going on about how Valeska is meant to be a strong character and all, so hopefully you all can understand how difficult it was for me to write her experiencing a mild anxiety attack. I really wanted to grab up a moment in which her ghouldum has strongly begun to affect her, rather than just showing her mysterious attraction to the Prince. The possibility of her master being in danger to me, was one that I could see her character becoming very anxious over. Her sarcastic response to Imalia I decided to use, in order to show that her personality can become quickly impatient when faced with boredom and as a result lead to irritated/angry behavior. In regards to the other characters, there is a reason that both V.V. and Strauss appear to be overly fascinated with Valeska. However their reasons are NOT intertwined what so ever. With Velvet I left it up to the reader to decide if her allure to the ghoul was genuine or if she was just really hungry to sample her blood, but Val's heartbeat is what initially drew her in. Max's reason on the other hand is a bit more complicated and has to do with Valeska's true nature. Just like Grout, Strauss will have his own POV chapter coming up here soon that will shed some light on what Val is, but not give it away entirely. I also feel the need to add that due to the opening scene of VTMB with Velvet blowing Max a kiss that he denied, I wanted to incorporate some kind of one way attraction between the two. Anyway, let me know your opinions on this chapter with how well or poorly I did in portraying some of the characters. If you have any ideas, questions, critiques, compliments, or anything else you'd like to share, I would love to hear it! =)


	23. Dancing with the Devil

**Author's Note:** So as my readers probably noticed, there was a significant delay in between this chapter and the last. This is because my fever hit as high as 104, I temporarily lost vision in one eye, I could barely walk, and my lack of being able to breathe properly put me in the hospital. Turns out I have pneumonia, and a urinary tract infection at the same time. So naturally, my writing took a back burner. I'm currently recovering, but due to my illness and college finals being next week, my chapters will unfortunately be delayed. I apologize for this! Now then, this chapter focuses primarily on the developing relationship between LaCroix and Valeska. I put a bit of playful banter here and there, along with some backstory for both characters. Maximillian Strauss shows up towards the end, and more hints are dropped about Valeska's true nature. Enjoy!

**Special Thanks:** As always thank you ever so much to all the readers (new or old) who have taken interest in my story and/or dedicated their time to reading it regularly. An even bigger thanks though to sofilise for taking the time to follow and favorite my story, and to the reviewers of the last chapter who are: Sasha Naruto, aberdeenkev, Sof/sofilise, and LadylayDE!

**Responses: **To Sasha Naruto: Thank you for wonderfully kind words. I believe your interpretation of V.V.'s fascination to be a correct one, in that it's probably a combination of hunger and lust. I'm not sure Gary would qualify as an uncle for Valeska though, as their relationship is based more on information trade than anything. At most Valeska sees him as a role model because of the acting he used to do and now his current profession of subterfuge, and he in return sees her as useful pawn that just so happens to have a fan based respect for him.

To aberdeenkev: Glad that you liked the last chapter. I'm not sure if Imalia will be getting on revenge on Val just yet since she knows nothing about her. We'll have to see.

To Sof/sofilise: I love your reviews; they make me so happy! I'm incredibly happy to hear that my characters continue to be spot on, and even more so that my story influenced you to create an account to follow me. Thank you for your continued support and well wishes toward my health! ^_^

To LadylayDE: Happy to hear that my portrayal of the characters is accurate, and even more so that I inspired you to write your own story! Learning that I've helped to expand the writing community is the highest honor that I as an author could ever receive. If you need assistance in your writing, please let me know.

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**Chapter 22 Dancing with the Devil**

"Miss Latimer?" an eloquent male voice asked. Turning around, Valeska was relieved to see LaCroix, who besides having a small amount of concern in his eyes, looked absolutely fine. Almost immediately her breathing and eyesight returned to normal, as the music and other sounds of the room began to trickle back into her ears.

"Master?" It surprised her that her voice sounded so faint, but what was more shocking to her at that moment was that this was the first time she had ever addressed LaCroix as 'master'. The more she thought about this though, the more she realized that she had mentally been doing this ever since she had gotten a second taste of his blood. Normally this would have unnerved her, but since she was just happy to see that the Prince was alright, this thought barely registered in her mind.

"Are you alright?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow. Part of him seemed pleased with being addressed in such a high regard, but the other part was confused if not still concerned. It was an expression she considered highly unusual on the Prince's normally serious face, and the fact that he was even bothering to ask if she was well was also something she was not used to.

"Yeah I…just wanted to make sure everything was going smoothly with your evening so far," she replied as calmly as she could. It was a lie of course, but the last thing she needed to admit to her boss was that she had almost experienced a full blown anxiety attack because of her irrational fears concerning his safety.

"I see," was all the Prince said before looking her over for a moment. Whether he believed her or not was uncertain, though she assumed it was probably the latter. "Do you by any chance know how to dance, Miss Latimer?"

"I _can_ dance if that's what you're asking, but if you mean formal dancing? No," the ghoul clarified. There was no confusion in what he was proposing, but performing for a crowd that would no doubt be watching them closely due to the Prince's prestige, was not an idea she wanted to entertain.

"If you really can dance as you claim, then you can follow my lead. Come," LaCroix ordered. She wasn't really given a choice in the matter, so with more than a bit of hesitation she gathered up the bottom of her dress and allowed her boss to lead her to the center of the room to join the other guests. "Place your hand upon my upper arm, here." He gestured toward his right arm.

Doing as she was told, she gently put her left hand on the Prince's upper right arm as he lifted up her remaining hand that still held her dress. She had forgotten exactly how freezing his touch could be, and when he placed his other icy cold palm on her upper back, it caused her to jump. It literally felt like someone was holding an ice cube against her back so consequently it caused her to shiver slightly until she adjusted.

"Now, I shall attempt to make this simple for you, but I urge to pay close attention none the less," the Prince suggested before taking a step to his right, and then one to the back. Although his movements were simple, Valeska was not the most well-coordinated person in the world which naturally made her quite nervous about screwing up and embarrassing the man. There was a reason she avoided most sports in that it seemed she would develop two left feet right before a big game. Really, the only things she could say she was able to do somewhat well that were physical, was ballet and a handful of combat maneuvers. While fighting for Valeska could sometimes feel like she was dancing, she knew it was not the same thing.

Despite her worries however, Valeska discovered that she was surprisingly relaxed in her boss's arms. As such, she had the confidence that enabled her to move as fluently as any of the other guests in the waltz that seemed to command the crowd much like an ocean directs its waves. Slowly she began to feel like she was actually having fun and what made it all the more enjoyable was that LaCroix in particular was quite skilled at dancing. Although the two had started with a simple box-step, he slowly began to switch up their style in order to incorporate more advanced moves to their dance such as twists, turns, and longer strides. It made her wonder exactly how much training he had acquired in his past, if he knew any other forms of dancing, and how often he practiced if he did.

"You're very good at this, sir," Valeska complimented. Instead of responding with words, her master spun her into a sort of twirl before slowly pulling her back. Normal was it for her to have difficulty maintaining long periods of eye contact, but in this instance she found herself captivated by his gaze. Maybe it was because for once she was actually living in the moment, or perhaps it was because of the conflicting yet comforting feeling she got when she stared into his brilliant blue eyes.

"As are you," LaCroix added with a small smile. Was it just her, or did he actually appear to be enjoying himself as much as she was? The shine in his eyes, the expression on his face, and his body language definitely made her think he was. "Are you certain you lack training in any class of formal dancing?"

"Yes, sir," she answered, "I mean I took ballet in high school, and I used to dance with my stuffed animals as a child, but other than that I have little that would indicate any knowledge of being able to do the waltz like this."

"You once…danced with your stuffed animals?" the pale Prince asked in disbelief. To him the very idea seemed positively preposterous, so she figured that he had either simply forgotten what play time as a child was like, or that his childhood had been entirely absent of it.

"Yes, sir," Valeska repeated, "I would pretend that I was an evil queen and that the only way to stop the alien overlords from overthrowing my reign, was to dance with my stuffed bear to the cassette I had of Michael Jackson's Thriller." LaCroix raised an eyebrow and frowned as though he was very confused.

"Forgive me for saying this, but you are an extraordinarily odd woman, Miss Latimer," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone that made Valeska laugh softly. It wasn't meant as an insult, or at least she didn't think it was. When anyone ever called her weird she tended to take it as a compliment, so who could know for sure.

"If you think that's odd, then you won't want to hear about how I used to play serial killer with my action figures," the ghoul added in a joking manner, "My dad used to warn me that if I kept it up, my play time would become my reality.

"I have no doubt that you're already aware of this, but most young girls tend to play with dolls, host tea parties, and pretend that they are fairy princesses, not….evil queens and serial killers," her boss pointed out with an weird expression on his face. He was still behaving as though he had encountered some never before seen specimen, but was stuck between being fascinated or disgusted.

"I'm not most girls, Mr. LaCroix," Valeska retorted, enjoying this highly entertaining conflict of his. She experienced a frustrating inner struggle every time she saw his face or thought of him, so it was only fair that he be allowed to experience something similar every once in a while.

"Touché, Miss Latimer," the Ventrue vampire said with a smirk. As unbelievable as it was, LaCroix was actually amused. His behavior continued to get stranger and stranger with every comment he made, so Valeska wondered if it was because they were in a social setting. His clan was known for being highly skilled with their social graces, which probably meant they enjoyed it a lot. The reason then for her master being so high spirited was probably from a combination of the attention he was getting from the others and the power he was able to influence so openly. This theory to her seemed reasonable and really it was the only theory she could conjure up without creating a biased or delusional one.

"So times must have been very different two centuries ago," Valeska began, "What did you do for fun?"

"My childhood was nearly completely absent of anything that could be categorized as entertainment," LaCroix answered with a stern expression.

"Keyword here is _nearly_. That means it wasn't nonexistent," the ghoul perceptively interpreted.

"Fair enough, Miss Latimer, I shall humor you," the pale Prince sighed, "Most of my early childhood playtime was spent along the ocean shore where I skipped rocks and amused myself with the local creatures that inhabited the tide pools."

"You played with sea creatures?" Valeska melodramatically gasped. Her sarcastic words were of course meant to tease him for his behavior earlier in regards to the mention of her childhood, but all LaCroix did was narrow his eyes in an annoyed manner. Valeska simply laughed. "Relax, I'm only teasing, sir. So besides tossing rocks and poking around in tide pools, did you do anything else for fun?"

"Sometimes I would draw figures in the sand with a stick," he replied dully. "Or construct sandcastles if I completed my lessons early enough for that particular day." Valeska tried to imagine LaCroix as a little boy playing with sticks and stones on a beach shore, but it was incredibly difficult for her to do. Picturing his physical appearance wasn't too hard seeing as how he already had the baby face and fair hair going for him. The problem here was that childhood meant innocence, and if there was one thing she knew the Prince was not, it was innocent. His eyes alone spoke of dark deeds that would probably chill the ghoul to her bones, so visualizing such an individual playing with a starfish or building a sandcastle didn't come to mind easily.

"Weren't there other kids around to socialize with?" she questioned, still curious to learn more about her vampire master. As she had predicted, he clearly enjoyed talking about himself so why not exploit that?

"I tended not to affiliate myself with those my age. I preferred to be alone on the shore with my thoughts, or occasionally with my younger sister, Danielle," her boss explained before pausing for a moment. "However, she barely made it to her fifth birthday before a fever claimed her life. So no, Miss Latimer, technically there were no other children." She had never seen LaCroix mournful before, and while this emotion only flittered across his face for a brief moment, it had still been there. Combined with the deep pain she felt emanating from the Prince, it made her feel incredibly sorry for the selfish man that she assumed cared for no one. Clearly his sister was the exception in case.

"I'm…I'm so sorry," Valeska apologized with genuine sympathy. "Your sister sounds like she must have been an important person in your life, and it's shocking to think something as simple as a fever resulted in her death. I guess that was because of the lack of medical resources that were available during your time period though..." She gave her boss's hand a comforting squeeze, though he either failed to notice this gesture or perhaps he simply didn't care.

"Such an event that transpired so long ago is one that no longer holds any significant meaning to me, Miss Latimer," the Ventrue vampire stated plainly. Normally, Valeska credited the Prince with the level of skill he had with deception, but his current attempt to fool her was amateur at best. With him she never knew if he was telling the truth or not so it kept her on her toes, but this was the literally the first time he had ever failed to make her do this. She knew it, and he knew it, but for the sake of his temper she would pretend otherwise.

"Leaving the past in the past, and working toward your future by focusing on the present. Commendable and practical, sir," the ghoul complimented. It probably sounded like she was brown nosing again, but so long as it steered her clear of his anger she did not care. Her master who was staring off into space however, almost appeared to have not even heard her. His mind was in a distant place no doubt, probably reliving some tragic or violent moment of his past, but again, Valeska would continue to pretend everything was completely normal. He seemed like a strong individual, but if he needed her, he would ask; it was as simple as that.

The two were quiet for a moment longer until LaCroix made a sudden unexpected turn. Perhaps it was because he wasn't paying full attention to what he was doing, or perhaps it was because Valeska wasn't as skilled at dancing, but this brash move almost caused the ghoul to trip over her own feet. Instinctively though, her master caught her just in time by lowering his icy hand to the small of her back and pulling her closer towards him. Luckily no one had noticed her little blunder, so although she could tell her master was debating on whether or not to scold her, he made no move to actually do so. As they continued to dance to the constantly changing music, Valeska noticed that the Prince had yet to return his hand to her upper back nor had he moved to reestablish their professional distance. It wasn't something she minded, and in fact it actually caused a smile to creep up onto the ghoul's face while she contemplated the odd partnership they had.

The two of them no doubt shared similar traits, but at the same time they were vastly different. LaCroix may have had a short temper, but deep down he was a vampire who was ice cold in more ways than one. Valeska on the other hand was a mortal, and while she could be incredibly cold at times, it seemed that more so than not she had a fiery passion to her soul. Such a combination was probably what caused them to suffer from such biter confrontations, but here they were, joyfully dancing the night away like they had known each other for years. It made her wonder if it was that same fire she possessed within her, that she could use to melt away her master's harsh disposition. This could be a potentially dangerous thing to do though, because melted water could easily extinguish her own flames in return if she wasn't careful.

"Might I inquire as to why you are grinning like a fool, Miss Latimer?" her master questioned in a belittling tone. Obviously he was still ticked with her former mistake or perhaps her current one, but instead he was expressing his irritation in a less obvious way.

Valeska could only stare at the pale Prince who was impatiently waiting for a response. Such a seemingly simple query was not one that she could easily answer. She wanted to tell him how enjoyable and soothing it was for her to be in his arms. She wanted to tell him that she was falling head over heels for the vain vampire, despite there being no logical for her to do so. She wanted to tell him all of this and more, but yet she _knew_ if any of this information was divulged, it would be harshly exploited. There was no point in baring her soul to a man that probably lacked one, so instead she decided to utilize her number one defense: deception.

"Oh I was just remembering the wild thing that happened to me earlier," Valeska lied, with a small laugh. "It was hilarious."

"And what might that be?" LaCroix inquired.

"I got hit on," she revealed; she was of course talking about her earlier encounter with the dancer, V.V. Taking her by surprise with a reaction she did not expect, a flash of what could only be anger based jealously ran across her master's face.

"By whom?" her boss demanded, tightening his grip. His eyes practically looked like they were afire with a burning passion to smite the person who had flirted with her. So much for his ice cold personality.

"Uhm…a Toreador stripper named V.V.," the ghoul responded slowly, still unsure of why he behaving the way he was. "She said that my irregular heartbeat was alluring, and that I was a beautiful contradiction. I got the feeling that she was more interested in my blood though, rather than anything genuinely romantic." His grip loosened a bit, and his expression relaxed as he allowed the distance between the two to return to a more professional stance.

"Glad to see that you saw through her little façade, as the infamous Miss Velour is widely known for the passionate antics she does so love to employ," the pale Prince scoffed before lowering his voice, "Despite her attempts to be seen as otherwise, she remains nothing more than a modern day courtesan with an artistic flair." He looked very thoughtful for a moment before he continued. "Make no mistake though, Miss Latimer, much like her Toreador sire, she can be a highly manipulative individual and therefore dangerous when she wants to be. For your own protection, you would do well to avoid her company in the future."

"Surely she can't be any more dangerous or manipulative than you already are, sir," Valeska added. Her chosen statement was a bit of a gamble seeing as how she had no idea how her master would react to the trap she had laid out before him. If he agreed to being more capable than Velvet, then he would have appeared ruthless and egotistical. However if he denied this, he still would have been displaying manipulative characteristics through blatant lying. The both of them knew that he was far more frighteningly capable than V.V. was, but his response would tell her a lot about what she could expect from him in the future.

"Why of course not, she lacks the aptitude, experience, and resources that I have," he agreed coolly. In an instant he pulled her quickly and violently toward himself in an iron grip so that he could speak lowly in her ear. "But so long as my ghoul remains on my good side by heeding my authority and not playing such juvenile games with me, she has no reason for fear of betrayal." The way he spoke sent chills up her spine, and it was hard to tell whether they were the good kind or not.

LaCroix was an utterly terrifying individual, and much more intelligent than she originally gave him credit for. He had seen right through her little test, and had reacted accordingly with a threat that could have also been seen as reassurance at the same time. He was as devilish & cunning as the snake from the Garden of Eden, and when he pulled back, his cold eyes combined with the subtle smirk he wore merely completed this mental image. He was the Prince of snakes: deadly, charming, cold blooded, and ever scheming.

"Good evening, Prince LaCroix," came a deep refined male voice. Completely releasing his ghoul, LaCroix turned to face whoever had addressed him, as did Valeska out of curiosity. To her surprise, she saw it was the bald, spectacle wearing vampire who had been staring her down earlier. His dance partner, Velvet, had apparently left his side to chat up some other guest, so he was stood alone, towering over the Prince and his ghoul. The creepy aura she had felt was even more powerful close up, and although he had spoken to her master, his eyes remained fixated on her.

"And to you as well, Strauss," her boss politely greeted with a nod, "How are you faring this fine evening?" There was a sort of subtle conflict between the two, though it was so faint that Valeska hardly noticed it. Unlike with Grout and LaCroix with their glaring suspicion of each other, these two on the other hand had a different issue with each other. She didn't know what it was, but it was still there.

"Quite well, thank you," the man known as Strauss responded. His voice had a slight accent to it, German maybe. "Forgive me for skipping past normal social pleasantries, but Gary Golden and a few of the other Primogen necessitate your presence." Valeska's eyes widened slightly with the shock of Gary being the Nosferatu clan leader as he had never introduced himself as such. He certainly didn't behave as though he was one either, but then again she had never met another Primogen besides Grout.

"Very well. Come, Miss Latimer," the Ventrue vampire ordered as though she were his pet. Right as she was about to happily follow her master away from the unsettling Strauss, he spoke up again.

"Actually, might I have a word with your female associate, Sebastian?" Strauss requested in the same calm tone of voice. Valeska found herself stuck between trying to decide if his voice made him creepy or commanding, but it was probably both.

"I would be prepared to allow my servant to leave my side if I knew why it was necessary," her master explained. Why was he being so difficult? Sure she didn't want to be stuck alone with the bald vampire, but LaCroix was behaving as though he were almost nervous about what might happen to his ghoul.

"I merely desire to make her acquaintance. However…," Strauss explained with a serious expression. "The matter to be discussed with the Primogen is really one that should be kept private amongst the leaders of the vampire community. Should you wish it, I am willing to keep your ghoul company until you return."

"Fine, do as you wish," LaCroix permitted impatiently. With that he turned on his heel and found his way to the other supposed Primogen so that he could immediately dive into whatever urgent thing needed to be gone over. It was inspiring to see how dedicated he was to his position as Prince, and she only wished she could have gone with him. Now here she was, all alone and face to face with the unnerving warlock.

"What is your name, young one?" Strauss inquired gently as continued to stare at her intently. His eye color was almost impossible to determine, as due to his height, she had to stare up at him through his bright orange spectacles.

"Valeska, sir," she answered quickly, nervous about waiting too long.

"Your surname, please," Strauss clarified.

"Latimer." At the specification of her last name, the towering vampire's eyes widened which only furthered Valeska's amount of unease. What was with this guy and his fascination with her?

"And your father, what was his first name?" he continued.

"Look, I don't mean to be rude, but I don't even know _your_ name," Valeska pointed out, "You're asking me all these questions, and I'm not going to answer them until you at least tell me who you are, and exactly what you want." In a defiant manner, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared confidently into Strauss's eyes despite her growing unease with the man. Rather than looked even the slightest bit bothered by her rebellious behavior, he merely chuckled softly. However, it was not a warm laugh in any sense of the definition. Much like how when Gary let loose, it was more of a discomforting sound that gave her goose bumps instead of something that made her feel cheery.

"My name is Maximillian Strauss, Tremere Regent and Primogen to my clan," the Tremere Primogen revealed. At least she got his clan right when she had guessed it, but being in a blood mage's company was even more eerie now that she knew it was definite. "Now in regards to my queries, I realize that they may seem rather invasive, but I assure you that the reasoning behind them will not result in any harm being bestowed upon yourself or anyone else for that matter. It is quite imperative though that I receive your answers before your master returns, so again: what was your father's first name?"

"Why do you want to know about my father so badly?" she investigated with more than a little paranoia. "I usually don't discuss him unless I know the other person well enough or I'm being offered incentive." Strauss exhaled deeply, but it had been done in more of a thoughtful manner rather than an irritated one.

"Miss Latimer, I am well aware that you find my company to be highly unsettling. I can see in your eyes the rising tension of mistrust with my character, and yet you cannot understand why you feel it. You simply do, as do you with the other guests," Maximillian explained gesturing around the room with a gloved hand, "An intuitive sense guides your actions, and often you see or feel things that other people miss. Am I correct in this assumption?"

"How did you know that…?" Valeska asked softly. His stone cold face was even more unreadable than her master's, and yet that same disturbing sensation coming from him seemed more powerful than ever.

"You asked for incentive, ergo, I granted it to you. Answer my questions, Miss Latimer, and I shall return the favor," the Tremere Regent offered. At this point if there was one personality trait she could definitely attribute to the blood mage, it would be infuriatingly enigmatic.

"Fine, his name was Viktor," the ghoul sighed impatiently. Again, Maximillian's eyes enlarged before returning to the serious blank slates they frequently mirrored.

"Would you mind describing his physical appearance for me?" the Primogen continued, his eyes boring into hers.

"He left when I was six for god's sake. I can barely remember what his favorite color was let alone what he looked like, ok?" She was being rude and she knew it, but discussing her dad was a sensitive topic that she avoided for a reason.

"I would ask that you attempt to do so again," he urged. Gently he placed his hand upon the ghoul's shoulder, and when he did, it was like a veil of fog was being lifting from her mind. She felt so laid back, but at the same time she found herself being able to think more clearly than she ever had. In return, this allowed her to easily reminisce about her father as details about him came flooding back to her.

"He was…tall, at least 6'2. I remember feeling like I was on top of the world when he would carry me around on his shoulders at the fair," she began, "And he was incredibly skinny no matter how much food his appetite forced him to shovel in. I guess that made him sick though, because his skin always looked so pasty white. He loved the outdoors and got more than enough sun, but he never tanned. A lot like me I guess. He had…" She paused and closed her eyes trying to remember her dad's face. "Very long brown hair, a crooked nose, a bit of stubble on his chin, and a scar over his left eye…which were green I believe. Oh and he liked to wear jewelry a lot too, like these…weird rings and huge pendants or something. Is that good enough?"

"Thank you, Miss Latimer, the information you provided will be quite sufficient and I shall refrain from asking any additional questions. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter and apologize should any of your long forgotten memories result in mental anguish," the blood mage acknowledged as he removed his palm from her shoulder. Immediately the relaxed feeling along with the clear mental pictures she had of her father vanished, making her wonder exactly what kind of blood magic he had just used on her. "Now I must take my leave of you for the evening."

"But you said you would answer my questions if I answered yours!" Valeska exclaimed.

"And I promise that I will, but now is neither the time nor place to do so. One day soon I shall call upon you to reveal my chantry's location so that we may convene there in private. These matters you must understand are not for the ears of those around us, and it is something you will come to appreciate later on I'm certain. Until then, I urge you to be patient young one," the Regent explained calmly. "Trust me as your father once did."

"What did you say?" she anxiously demanded. "Are you telling me that you knew my dad now?"

"I am sorry, but again, I cannot speak openly here," he reminded, "Patience is a virtue that has served me well over the years, Miss Latimer, so should you choose to master it as I am suggesting you do, I'm sure it will do the same for you." Valeska closed her eyes and nursed the bridge of her nose. She didn't have the energy to want to deal with this mystical wise man's nonsense, but she had to make a good impression for the Prince by being polite. It was maddening too, because it almost seemed like he had purposefully mentioned her father just to make her all the more curious. In the end she had no other choice but to wait, so exhaling deeply she reopened her eyes and stared directly into the Tremere Primogen's face.

"Alright, I'm going to trust you, but being patient isn't my strong suite. I stayed up four days straight once playing Dragon Age 2 on my computer, because I didn't want to wait to find out how it ended. The ending kinda sucked…like really bad….but point is I'm not patient!" the ghoul informed Strauss. "I know you're probably a busy guy, but please, just don't make me wait five months to figure out how it is you know my father, ok?"

"An effort will be made to return to you in a timely fashion, Miss Latimer," Strauss reassured, "Until then, I wish you well, and hope that your evening continues on a more pleasant path." With the nod of his head, he hurriedly left the ballroom without bothering to say farewell to any of the other guests, or even the host.

The mystery of the Tremere Primogen and how he knew her father continued to buzz in her mind, as she stood rubbing her chin thoughtfully trying to generate a number of possibilities. Her father had been a shady man himself, dabbling in thievery, computer hacking, and other questionable hobbies, but was there anything about him that might align him with the Tremere? Sure her dad had been a spiritual sort who meditated daily, but he was more of a new age naturist hippy rather than a warlock. Or was that thought wrong too? He did tend to be very secretive in the time he spent away from her, so for all she knew he _was_ a magic user.

She yawned and rubbed the back of her neck in an effort to comfort her aching muscles when an alarming thought occurred. Had being affiliated with vampires been the primary cause for her father's abandonment and later on, untimely death? It always seemed likely to her that she was left with her grandmother because her dad had gotten into some kind of trouble with the law, but the possibility of him being on the run from vampires was one she could see happening.

"Damn it, this is so messed up…" Valeska murmured quietly to herself.

"Something wrong, Miss Latimer?" LaCroix asked from behind her. Whirling around, she saw her master watching her intently with a suspicious expression. She also saw that nearly everyone had begun to enter the adjacent room, which appeared to be a dining room of sorts.

"I'm getting a migraine, sir. They tend to be pretty debilitating, so I just hope it doesn't prevent me from doing anything," Valeska lied.

"For you sake, I would hope not," he snapped. Oh wonderful, the conversation with the Primogen hadn't gone over well so of course he was going to take his anger out on her. It could have been a lot worse, but it was still irritating to her. "Now I would love nothing more than to hear all about what Strauss and yourself discussed, but Aleister Grout's presentation is set to begin any moment now. The bathroom is down the main hall somewhere, so I suggest you locate and use it before you return for the viewing. The last thing we need is the biological functioning of a human to interrupt the good doctor's speech."

"Of course, sir," the ghoul acknowledged with a nod. "Given this opportunity, I would appreciate it if you also allowed me to also take the time needed to freshen up as well." All of their lines had been rehearsed in the car in the event someone might be listening in, but it was much easier than she thought to remember them.

"Very well, I shall see you when you so do choose to return," the Ventrue vampire permitted. Valeska nodded and hurriedly left his presence. From the corner of her eye, she saw that LaCroix had already started to walk back to the others when Therese blindsided him with the beginning of a conversation that he probably did not want. The ghoul chuckled inwardly at this as she left the ballroom. Each step she took felt like a hundred pounds though, as her heart beat increased with excitement with what she was about to do. The only thing she hoped was that Grout didn't have any deadly servants employed throughout his mansion to keep watch over his secrets, but knowing her luck, he probably did.

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**Author's Note:** So that was Chapter 22! Again I apologize for the wait based on my infuriating health issues, but hopefully it was worth the wait. Not much for me to really point out at this point other than writing for Strauss was actually a bit difficult, because I felt like I was writing for LaCroix at the same time minus the attitude. I suppose because they are both older in age they have a more sophisticated or refined style of speaking, so that's probably why. Still, I hope I didn't butch his dialogue too badly. The next chapter will be through his POV after all, so if you have any improvements you'd like to recommend for his character, let me know! After that I might either do a Val POV or a LaCroix POV depending on how adventurous I feel. One last reminder, in that the next chapter will probably be delayed (hopefully not as long!). If you've any critiques, compliments, suggestions, or anything else you want to share, feel free! =)


	24. Mysteries of a Mage

**Author's Note: **Alright, so this is a chapter through Maximillian Strauss's POV. It gives a bit of insight into how the Regent thinks (or how I think he would), some interaction between V.V. and himself, and more hints on what Valeska is. I know it's probably driving some of your crazy trying to figure it out, but I promise that it won't be too much longer until I drop the bomb. I like to add a little suspense and mystery to my writing, rather than drop it all in one chapter, so I apologize if this is upsetting anyone. I should also apologize, because the amount of editing that has gone into my story has decreased with my inability to think properly when sick. Yes, yes, I know, excuses, excuses! The good news is though that I'm slowly starting to feel much better, and that next week will be my last week of school for this semester. Anyway, please enjoy and drop a review if you can!

**Special Thanks:** Thank you so much to my loyal readers and to the reviewers of the last chapter who are Sasha Naruto, sofilise, LadylayDE, and myobsidianbutterfly. To save room, I really want to thank you all for the well wishes I've received about my health, because goodness knows I need them!

**Responses:** To Sasha Naruto: As always, I'm happy to see that you enjoyed the last chapter and your concern is much appreciated. As for a vampire song, feel free to share any that you feel are applicable. =)

To sofilise: I am so pleased to see that you're enjoying Valeska's personality! Based on what rednightmare recommended, I've been searching for some personality quirks that would make her stand out, so talking about video games I figured was relatable, but slightly unique too. By the way, I forgot to add this in the last chapter, but I absolutely adore your profile picture. xD

To LadylayDE: Awesome news that I captured Strauss well and that you're liking Valeska more and more! I've been trying to make her relatable so hearing that I'm succeeding at that cheers me up substantially.

To myobsidianbutterfly: Thanks for the compliments on the last two chapters! If you think Strauss being involved is interesting, then I am certain this chapter will be quite enjoyable for you!

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**Chapter 23 Mysteries of a Mage**

When the Tremere Regent had planned to attend Dr. Aleister Grout's dinner party, the last thing he had expected was for the night's events to play out as they had. To be fair, being in the company of a Malkavian was always going to be unpredictable, but several of them? Oh yes, he had come prepared for nonsensical babbling, doomsday predictions, and insanely insightful comments about his history. Living for as long as he had, these things he had grown used to, just as he had adapted to the sensitive yet manipulative nature of the Toreador, the childish and rebellious attitudes of the Brujah, and of course the way in which a Ventrue could talk themselves out of a room with no doors or windows. Maximillian Strauss was an old fashioned vampire, but that did not mean he was above changing his ways in order to better suit a situation. All of the clans after all had been slowly changing to fit in with modern society, and so far he had been quite effective in dealing with each of their quirks, new or old. The Malkavian were no exception to this, but that was not what had thrown him off that evening.

The night had begun as any normal one would have with Primogen Strauss rising earlier than most, and partaking in his evening ritual of a warm glass of blood next to the fireplace within his study. While many vampires outright avoided fire, the Regent enjoyed staring thoughtfully into it (sometimes for hours) while the warmth of it comforted his icy skin. It reminded him of his time spent in Germany when the combination of the long cold nights and his restless mind would keep him wide awake and unable to sleep. The world back then seemed so enigmatic to him with secrets waiting around each corner to be uncovered, and because of his inquisitiveness he had decidedly devoted the entirety of his mortal life to exposing them. The Regent just as he did now, had possessed a ravenous appetite for knowledge that never seemed satisfied, and it wasn't until his afterlife had begun that he realized how many deep dark mysteries there actually were out there. At times it made him wonder if his sire would have moved on to embrace some other childe if he hadn't involved himself so heavily in uncovering the occult. What would have become of the human Maximillian had he not taken the path he had? It was a philosophical question that he often contemplated, often for no specific reason other than because he could.

Tonight was no different, in that he found himself pondering this and a million other things all at once as he stared deeply into the roaring flames of the fireplace. Sighing deeply he leaned back and placed his glass back on the table, before folding his hands over each other. Despite his rather public position of being a Primogen, he himself was not a social butterfly and therefore was not looking forward to the evening's upcoming party. Time technically may have been endless for him, but it was still better spent learning spells from his many tomes or experimenting with new rituals. Dealing with squabbling vampires who were caught up with their petty political problems drained him of his energy, and made the idea of retreating back to the Tremere Chantry all the more appealing. Sometimes it was a genuine problem that needed solving, but usually it was the younger vampires that lacked subtlety and tact that competed with one another to determine whose authority was in greater standing. It was mindless immature behavior that was better suited for children rather than elders responsible for governing the city, but telling them such was pointless since at best he might injure a few overinflated egos. Thus he was left to wait patiently, as anything that ascends to great heights so quickly, must eventually come tumbling back down. In vampire society it was only a matter of time until it happened, and if there was one thing Strauss definitely had, it was time.

As much as the Regent desired to skip out on tonight's celebrations though, there were two reasons that made it so he absolutely could not. His primary concern was due to the Primogen Grout's eccentric behavior, in that it seemed his paranoia as of late was growing by a substantial rate. Such a trait was not entirely unusual for a Malkavian, but when that person was the head of his clan, it was important that a close eye be kept on the mental health of that individual. Seeing as how Grout had outright failed to attend the past few meetings, Strauss made it his personal duty to make sure all was well with the good doctor.

His secondary concern was really more of one that was grounded in his own curiosity as several rumors had been circulating that the Prince had acquired a new ghoul. Now the Regent's opinion on LaCroix was rather poor. He told not a single soul of this, but in truth he believed that the man was simply too power hungry and young to effectively hold the position of being LA's Prince. Often it seemed that the Ventrue vampire purposefully did things that drew attention to himself, but few if any of these were actually good. An example of this would have been making his haven the tallest building in downtown LA or hauling his Sheriff everywhere he went. Strauss understood the need for protection probably more so than any living person, but a towering leather skinned Nagloper with red eyes could not exactly be define as a subtle bodyguard. This larger than life attitude was dangerous for any vampire to possess, and knowing about this little quirk that LaCroix had, it was obvious he would not have just chosen anyone to become his ghoul. Whoever this person was, it was quite probable that he or she was a capable individual that was unique in some advantageous way. This piqued the Regent's curiosity, and made it so he was more than willing to sacrifice a single evening in order to meet the Prince's new servant.

Exhaling deeply, Strauss lifted his hand and stared at it in an attempt to clear his mind from his other thoughts. In his past he had mastered many different paths that the discipline of Thaumaturgy had to offer, such as the Path of Blood, the Path of Conjuring, Hands of Destruction, and even a bit of Biothaumaturgy. Recently he had been focusing on learning the Lure of Flames since fire had always held a special charm to him for some reason (perhaps because of the danger that lay behind it). When you had no mentor to draw knowledge from though, educating one's mind in a new path was never a simple thing. However, Strauss was a highly intelligent individual, so with the combination of his self-discipline and experienced wisdom, he had more luck than most in grasping new material.

Few if any of those around him knew of his true abilities of course, as he preferred to keep his opponents guessing. This was because if any knowledge were to leak on what he was actually capable of doing, it would place him in a significantly weaker stance should he be put in a position that required him to do battle. Even if the likelihood of such an event occurring were slim, one could never be too careful when faced with a situation that might result in the Final Death. It was the same reason he preferred leading in the shadows rather than in the limelight, because in this way no one would ever know what to expect from him.

Returning to the matter at hand, Strauss drew from the bit of blood he had just consumed in order to focus his energies into generating a fistful of fire. It took a fair bit of concentration, but less than a few seconds later, a small flame erupted in the palm of his hand. In its current form it was not so deadly, but Strauss found himself smirking that such a tiny thing could have easily become a powerful tool of destruction if he wished it. While the magnificent light may have looked innocent or even calming, no Tremere truly knew where the fire was conjured from. Some mages believed its source originated from the depths of hell itself, but seeing as how the Regent had dabbled in ever darker arts in his past, the devil's sanctuary held no fear for him.

A knock at his door tore him from his thoughts and extinguished the flame in his hand. He had instructed one of his apprentices to inform him when the time to leave would be soon, and after glancing at the clock he realized that that time was now. Rising from his old armchair that loudly creaked throughout the room, the Tremere Primogen stole away to one of the adjacent rooms. It was not one that many were permitted to enter, as it was the primary area in which he performed most of his bloody experimentations and obscure rituals. Like many of the other rooms in the Chantry, the lighting inside was rather dim and the walls were lined with crowded bookshelves. The lingering aroma of fresh blood and burnt flesh stung at Strauss's nose, which served as a mental reminder of his last set of spells.

Gathering up a few enchanted pieces of jewelry lying on his desk, he uttered a few simple incantations to refresh the amount of protection that each one carried. Hour long rituals had already been conducted in advance so that each piece would protect his body, mind, and soul, but it didn't do any harm to double the amount of security. Chances were that nothing troublesome would happen that night anyway, but one could never be too paranoid when you were highly mistrusted for being from a clan of magic wielding diablerists. The Tremere Primogen worked hard to not advertise his clan as such, but in the end, the others were right to be fearful since most of the time their worries were justified.

Unlike most modern day vampires, Maximillian Strauss preferred an ulterior motive of transportation, which namely in this case was teleportation. Despite the endless amount of spells and rituals that the Tremere clan seemed to have, only a few of those were actually dedicated to the ability to magically teleport. The two main ones were the Mirror Walk ritual, and the Escape to a True Friend ritual. The first one entailed utilizing an emerald ring and walking through a large enough mirror in order to exit through the nearest one available. It was incredibly useful in case of emergency, but treating every mirror within a fifty yard radius as a set of portals could grow to be a bit tedious. If one wasn't careful in their planning, such a technique could also serve to be a risk to the Masquerade. The second ritual required the use of an engraved circle of runes burned into the ground, and then after which stating the name of a trusted personage in order to immediately teleport to wherever they were. Due to the fact that Strauss put his faith in few, and the great deal of preparation time involved with that ritual, it was one that he reserved only if he had no other choice.

Instead of using one of the two rituals, Strauss had developed his own private spell that cut down not only the preparation time, but the restrictions it had. The use of the rune circle was still needed, along with a great deal of the Kindred's own blood and concentration, but in return the user could teleport anywhere that they had a clear mental picture of. The Tremere Regent was not a huge fan of the contraptions known as mechanical vehicles, so logically in his mind half a pint of sacrificial blood was worth it to avoid having to ride inside one. Returning to his Chantry was as easy as snapping his fingers, literally. So long as he wore his pendant that matched the runes of his teleportation circle, this secret form of transportation was quite simple for him.

Picking up one of his ceremonial daggers, Strauss sliced open his wrist and made his way over to the worn circle laid out on the wooden floor. The rune symbols had already been burnt into the ground decades ago, but whenever teleportation was required, they needed to be retraced with fresh blood. Dipping two of his fingers into the blood pooling at the base of his wrist, the Regent kneelt within the circle and began to repaint the runes with his dark vitae. While he did this, he concentrated heavily on what his intended destination was, and exactly what it looked like. An interesting aspect of this ritual was that the older the blood was, the further that person could teleport. Therefore, a trip to a location as far as the Hollywood Hills or even a neighboring state, would pose no challenge to someone like him.

No doubt because of the constant practice the Tremere Primogen had with this specific ritual, it only took him a short amount of time before he had finished his task of coating the runes with his crimson fluids. Standing back up, he took one last glimpse at himself in the mirror that every once in a blue moon he would use to walk through. Normal was it that he donned a set of deep red robes, but because of the planned events for the evening, he had a picked out a more professional outfit. It had a more subtle approach to the modern day attire worn at formal gatherings, but it was still there if one chose to simply look for it. The collar of his outer trench coat was a bit wrinkled though, so after straightening it he centered himself within his circle, closed his eyes, and spoke aloud the name of his destination.

As was per the norm of his teleportation ritual, a sort of prickly electric feeling shot all over the Regent's body as he felt a whoosh of cool air immediately pass through his long robes. In his mind he made sure to hold a clear picture of Grout's mansion, for if his thoughts were to change even slightly, the blood powered ritual could become highly unstable and result in injury. Literally less than three seconds later, Strauss opened his eyes and found himself standing right outside the Malkavian's household.

It didn't take long after that for the Tremere Primogen to enter the mansion and join the rest of the party guests. He had to deal with a bit of a fiasco at the front door with one of Grout's ghoul, but other than that, his entrance was relatively smooth. He had hoped to speak with the Malkavian Primogen for a moment, seeing as how he was the main reason the Regent had decided to attend the party, but sadly the man was nowhere to be seen. More than likely he was off having a discussion with someone or was preparing for his scholarly presentation, so really there was no cause for alarm. Seeing as how the doctor wasn't present though, Strauss went down his mental checklist of people to speak with, and thus was left to search for LaCroix's ghoul.

Upon entering the ballroom, the Tremere Primogen was surprised to find that he was immediately able to locate his target. Normally he probably would have been forced to ask around, but the bored looking woman seated upon the sofa at the far end of the room stuck out like a sore thumb to him. To everyone else, she probably appeared as nothing more than the average party goer that just happened to be a mortal, but to him she looked so familiar that it was almost frightening. There was a certain characteristic about her too that he just couldn't place, and when he stared into her eyes it was difficult for him to get a read on her. The more he watched her, the more he was convinced that he needed to speak with her right away. Before he got the chance though, he spotted the Toreador dancer, Miss Velvet Velour, approach him from his left.

"I was wondering when you might show up, dear Max," she greeted in a sultry tone. On her face was a seductive smirk, which was an expression he had grown used to when dealing with the Toreador vampire. It was common knowledge that she often held attraction towards individuals she deemed unique, but her fascination with him bordered on almost the obsessive. They had kissed, once, but it was more of her abruptly and forcefully locking lips with him rather than him giving her consent to do so. After angrily shouting (something he rarely did) at her for her impertinent behavior, he had hurriedly left, but unfortunately it remained a moment that she would never let him forget. To him it was nothing more than petty drama, and no matter how much Velvet seemed to adore her theatrical antics, it was not something he would tolerate.

"Good evening, Miss Velour," the Regent politely greeted, "I am surprised to see you walking within the mansion walls of a Camarilla Primogen. Your superior's allegiance with the Anarchs is no secret, so I find it curious that someone so heavily influenced by Isaac Abrams would be attending such an event." In truth, Velvet's appearance was more than a bit suspicious as it was doubtful Grout would have openly invited someone so close to the Hollywood's Baron. More than likely she had invited herself, and was spying for Isaac, but he wouldn't accuse her of anything for the sake of keeping things civil.

"Oh you know I try not to get caught up in vampire politics, Max. They're so pointlessly suffocating that they make the night air heavy with dread that should not be. Besides, I wanted to see you," she explained softly while pulling him off to the side of the room. "And let me tell you that I'm very glad I did decide to come to this party, because you look _so _good." Using her index finger, she gently traced the golden thread lining of his blood red vest while biting her lower lip in a seductive manner. "Mmmm…it's enough to make my heart want to start beating all over again."

"I appreciate your generous compliments, Miss Velour, but they are wasted on one such as I," Strauss stated simply removing her hand from his chest. While some vampires he knew indulged themselves in rather curious hobbies with mortals and even other undead personages, he was not one of them. Personal relationships held no interest for him, and even when he had been alive, he had avoided romance like it was the plague. His only goals in life and unlife for that matter were those that followed an intellectual path, and engaging in sexual activities with another (as Velvet clearly wanted to do) was not one of them. In fact, the only people he really allowed himself to grow close to were his sire and the apprentices that learned under him within the Chantry.

"Oh come now, Max," Velvet purred which caused Strauss to cringe. He absolutely detested when someone called him Max over his real name, Maximillian, as it was both an insulting and lazy thing to do. "I know you don't like these little gatherings any more than I do, so why not escape into the night with me before it's too late? I promise you won't be disappointed…"

"Miss Velour, you and I have been over this a dozen times. I am not interested in your rather forward advances," the Regent attempted to calmly explain. "I am the Tremere Primogen as well as the Regent to my clan's Chantry, so while I am flattered that you have chosen to take interest in me, I have no time to initiate a relationship with you. Additionally, my only pursuits in this lifetime are purely intellectual in nature."

"The two of us both know that your words aren't true. I can see it in those dark orbs of yours that you've grown bored with this existence and that you yearn for more. Why punish yourself?" Miss Velour asked. Before he could respond to her question, she interrupted him, "Look me in the eyes and try to tell me that I'm wrong. If you can succeed in that I'll leave you be."

Maximillian stated into Velvet's manipulative and silver eyes in preparation for telling her that she was more than wrong, but for the life of him he couldn't get his words out. It was true that sometimes his nights were long and lonely, but more because of the constant routine that he endured. There was no doubt that regularity and control were necessary in his life, but while he did not desire outright chaos, was it really so much to ask for a bit of change? He was tired of everything in his unlife, from the paranoia brought on by the Jyhad and power hungry individuals of the city, to the way that vampire society had grown stale from the constant political battles between the sects. In the deep dark depths of his almost ancient mind he secretly desired an end or an extreme change to his existence, for to him it seemed the only method of acquiring any true peace.

Being a leader within the Camarilla though, such Anarch like thoughts were dangerous for him to have. He knew then that it was much better for him to completely disregard them rather than humor them, but that didn't make the task any easier. The only thing he could do was to remind himself that he had not waited and worked for as long as he had to throw away his loyalties and position in a single impulsive evening. From his peripheral vision he saw that Grout was standing in the hallway conversing with what looked like the Toreador Primogen, so seeing this was a mental reminder of his duties to the safety of his fellow Kindred.

"I am terribly sorry, but again there can be nothing between us," Maximillian apologized, "Now if you do not mind, I must speak with Aleister Grout."

"I'll let you go if you promise to dance with me later," she hurriedly offered, not even phased by the fact that he had turned her down, _again_. Currently she was blocking his path, and though Strauss knew he could have easily thrown her aside, deep down inside he was a man of refined gentleman like qualities. He was not above harming a woman should the need for physical conflict arise, but he would only result to such methods if he had no other choice.

"If that is what removes you as an obstacle in my path, then so be it. I shall join you in a dance later on in the evening," Strauss promised. The Toreador looked absolutely ecstatic with her wide school girlish grin, as she immediately stepped aside for the Regent to pass by.

Wasting no time in the event that Velvet might change her mind, the Tremere Primogen swiftly approached Dr. Grout and initiated a conversation with him. Oddly enough, the Malkavian behaved as he would on any normal occasion, with being incredibly well-spoken and schooled on a variety of different subjects. Such a person was vastly refreshing for Strauss to speak with when compared to many he knew, and he found himself enjoying their discussion on the erratic behavior of blood bonded ghouls. It was a topic of great interest to the doctor, and apparently it was one that he would be presenting that very evening. Unfortunately for Maximillian though, the most he was able to uncover that was odd about Aleister's behavior was that he seemed a bit distracted. Every change he acquired the man was constantly glancing over at Sebastian LaCroix, which was more than a bit suspicious, but certainly not enough for any action to be taken against the Prince. Soon another vampire, who by his wild physical appearance was probably Malkavian, approached the pair in order to start his own private conversation with the doctor. The Regent was then left to leave the two with very little evidence on what was causing Grout's absence at the leader meetings. It was probably nothing major, but he would have to keep his eye on the Malkavian Primogen none the less.

Having a bit of free time before the traditional dancing was set to begin, Strauss let his eyes wander back towards LaCroix's ghoul. Velvet had stopped him from fully examining her earlier, and to his surprise, he saw that the young human was actually speaking with Miss Velour. He wasn't entirely certain who had initiated the conversation seeing as how he knew little about the ghoul, but his guess was on the Toreador dancer due to her overly outgoing personality. He stared specifically at the Prince's servant a bit longer than he should have, but only because he thought it might help him remember where he knew her from. No matter how hard he racked his brain though, it remained empty of any clues that might hint at useful information. It was driving him to be as mad as the common Malkavian vampire, and if Velvet hadn't approached him for the dance he had promised to her, he probably would have remained lost in his thoughts for the entirety of the evening.

"Are you alright, Regent?" the Toreador asked, taking up his arm and leading him to the center of the room. "You look like something is bothering you."

"I am fine," the Tremere Primogen reassured her. Velvet didn't seem convinced, but she seemed far too pleased to be dancing with Strauss that she didn't seem to care either. She proceeded to dive into what seemed like a limitless amount of topics that he held no interest for, so he simply tuned out her voice and put his body into autopilot mode. He would have questioned Miss Velour for information on LaCroix's ghoul, but he saw no point to doing so when he simply could have avoided suspicion and carried out his inquires himself.

As the two continued to dance, Strauss wished he could have said he only had eyes for his partner, but that would have been a blatant lie. Velvet didn't seem too pleased with the Regent's fascination with the Prince's new servant, but that didn't prevent his attention from continuously wandering back over to the mortal that was happily dancing with her master. His actions weren't based on any kind of attraction toward the ghoul, but instead the burning desire within him to discover her identity. In a way, he felt the same way he did when he was on the verge of a break through concerning a new set of spells.

"You don't even seem to be enjoying yourself," Velvet flatly stated, interrupting his thoughts in the process. She had stopped dancing, and on her face was an expression of great annoyance.

"I apologize, Miss Velour, but my mind is preoccupied with the recent lingering political issues that could potentially pose a great threat to the Camarilla," Strauss easily lied. In his mind, the associate of a widely known Anarch was probably just waiting to soak up some kind information pertaining to the Camarilla, so revealing a few vague and false problems within the sect would almost certainly have distracted her.

"Damn it, Max! Why can't you just forget about the politics and loosen up for a single evening with me?" she questioned, not even bothering to ask about the Camarilla. Perhaps his assumptions about her were wrong, and she really was there to see him rather than serving her superior's wishes. Or perhaps she was simply manipulating him like she seemed to do to everyone else.

"I cannot change who I am. My responsibilities will always be first and foremost to my clan and the Camarilla. There is no stopping that, so you may either accept that or leave me to my duties," Strauss explained in his usual tone of voice.

"Fine," the Toreador said sadly while looking like she was on the verge of tears. The Regent showed no sign of sympathy as the dancer no doubt hoped he would, but displaying any kind of emotion towards anyone was incredibly rare for him to do. Surely she would have known this about him by now, but it seemed that she did not. Velvet didn't say anything else, she simply turned around and left him surrounded by Grout's dancing guests. He could tell that she wanted him to follow her or even stop her from leaving, but he had far more important issues on his mind that needed solving when compared to comforting an overly sensitive vampire. If Maximillian was lucky she would stop badgering him, but knowing how determined she was to sleep with him, it was doubtful that this would happen.

Cutting through the crowd, Strauss interrupted LaCroix from dancing with his ghoul, and told a quick lie that would allow him a short amount of privacy with the young woman. The Prince seemed hesitant, if not extremely defensive for some reason, but he did eventually leave allowing the Regent to immediately begin interrogating her. Upon closer inspection he started to realize that she held a certain resemblance to someone he once knew, but it wasn't until he acquired the ghoul's last name and a physical description of her father did he realize exactly who she was.

Valeska, who had assumed died when she was a baby, was the spitting image of her father, Viktor Latimer. All it had taken was the mention of a last name, and he had been hit with an onslaught of memories he had purposefully buried over two decades ago. He had been prepared for and handled with ease, a babbling Malkavian door greeter, a Toreador who was seemingly in love with him (or at least wanted to sleep with him), and even a scholarly discussion with Dr. Grout, but meeting the daughter of one of his most promising students was not something he had been expecting. It was so ironic for him too though, for his interaction with the young woman was almost like looking through a mirror into the past. Not only did she look so much like her father with the same kind of green eyes, high cheekbones, and pointy nose, but she behaved like he had too with a slightly outspoken side to her. From what he could tell, she was also just as inquisitive, stubborn, impatient, and paranoid, but she was lacking in the confidence her dad had been notorious for.

Naturally being what she was, there were a few things off about her like her languid heartbeat and less than average breathing rate. Her skin was a bit paler than most people's, and it wouldn't have surprised him if she admitted to being partially nocturnal or eating very little as these traits were supposed to be common among beings like her. He couldn't know for sure though, since only a tiny bit of research had been done on the rare individuals that were often destroyed out of fear upon discovery. If it hadn't been for his need of hard evidence to cement his theory, he would have gladly remained to ask her about what capabilities she possessed. However, he very much so doubted that she herself was even aware of what she was. Leaving as early as he had then was a wise decision indeed, since revealing to her every detail about her father and how she came to be would have been a shocking experience for anyone to endure.

Another reason he had left prematurely was because he wanted to avoid speaking with the Prince. Strauss had no idea if LaCroix was aware of what the individual he had recently employed was capable of, but he certainly wasn't going to be the one to inform him of such things. If he had any real knowledge of what she was then he probably would have dropped her from his command if not eliminated her in secret, which was something the Regent definitely did not want. As for why Sebastian had sought out the young woman, he now knew that it was probably because her blood was quite the delicacy. Then again, the Tremere Primogen had known Viktor Latimer better than anyone alive or dead, and he knew that the man had desired to have a miniature replica of himself in the event of his passing. It was highly probable then that he had schooled her in the same skill set he possessed which would have made her valuable to just about any vampire out there.

Whatever the LaCroix's reasoning was for employing Valeska though, Strauss was now certain that the Prince remained oblivious of his ghoul's true nature. She was still alive after all, and while the Ventrue vampire might not have resorted to outright killing her, he would have no doubt done something drastic should he ever know. Due to the friendship he had once shared with the ghoul's father, he therefore saw it as his responsibility to look after her and make sure that no harm should ever befall her. It would have been what Viktor wanted after all, and who knows? She could prove to be quite the asset to him as long as he played his cards right and made his ideas seem like they were hers.

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**Author's Note: **So yes, more mystery added to the story. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing pertaining to what the fans want to see, but I believe it adds more depth to the story. Again, I want to remind everyone that once Valeska figures out what she is, she will not become some super badass female commando invulnerable to weaknesses everywhere. She'll still have the same weaknesses and strengths, if not a few of each equally added to her capabilities. Feel free to guess at what she is in a review, and if you happen to be correct I'll shoot you a PM letting you know! Anyway, I wasn't real sure of how I was going to tackle a chapter from Strauss's POV, so let me know how I did! If you have any other compliments, critiques, ideas, suggestions, etc, then please drop a review! I love hearing from my readers. =)


	25. Anomalous Attraction

**Author's Note:** Hello everyone! I know this chapter was horribly delayed, but my readers should be happy to know that I am feeling much better and I got A's in all my classes for this semester! This means that delays should be much shorter (unless I go on vacation). Now then, this chapter will be through LaCroix's POV, and will serve to retrace his thoughts through some of the events we've already seen happen, along with dishing out a bit more of his history. I do hope that my habit of jumping around from different POVs and timelines isn't too annoying, but if it is please let me know. This chapter is a little longer than the average ones, but I assume that my readers won't mind too terribly much. Also as a side note, I only just recently realized with a fair bit of regret that some of my pop culture references were ones that are specific to 2011 – 2013 whereas this story takes place at the beginning of this century. I'm not going to change it, but if anyone does heavily complain about it then I will revise it. Anyway, without further ado I now present to you Chapter 24, enjoy!

**Special Thanks:** My eternal thanks to Topgallant for following my story, Lucius's Mistress for following & faving my story and especially to AluVkisser for faving and following not only my story, but me as an author. I also highly appreciate the reviewers of the last chapter who are: sofilise, aberdeenkev, Sasha Naruto, AluVkisser, Topgallant, LadylayDE, and Lucius's Mistress!

**Responses:** To sofilise: Your reviews never fail to make me happy! Accurately portraying characters is one of my biggest fears, so again I am happy to hear that I'm succeeding in this. By the way, feel free to guess at Valeska's true nature. Whether you're right or wrong I'll send you a PM letting you know. =)

To aberdeenkev: V.V. does certainly have bunny boiler traits, but without the violent streak that many of them tend to possess because it goes against her personality.

To Sasha Naruto: Hands of Destruction is indeed a dark path, but despite what some people might say about Strauss, I believe he has a dark side that he tries to keep hidden. Most Tremere after all do, and throwing that in was my attempt to make the reader question this. I appreciate your concern towards my health and I really liked that song by the way, thanks for sharing!

To AluVkisser: Thanks so much for all the support my new reviewer! I already sent you a PM so I don't really have to say too much here, but thank you again!

To Topgallant: Yay a second new reviewer! A short review is better than no review, and I'm happy to hear you like my pop culture references. They are my attempt in trying to make this modern (even if Skyrim only came out recently and this was based in early 2000's) and by giving Valeska a personality.

To LadylayDE: I'm glad to hear you enjoyed the last chapter, and you'll be glad to know that this one is longer! I hope you like it. =D

To Lucius's Mistress: I'm glad I caught your review, because I was just about to publish this chapter lol. I'm happy to see yet another new fan voicing their happy opinion on my story, and even more so that you're enjoying the romance. Eventually there will be a bit of rough physical interaction between the two, but I'm trying to take it slow for the sake of the story. I've seen too many potentially good stories fall by the wayside due to an overabundance of unrealistic fluff, but believe me when I say the two WILL get it on eventually lol.

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**Chapter 24 Anomalous Attraction **

The night that LaCroix had returned to his penthouse after he had spent the day slumbering in Valeska's apartment, had been a very stressful one indeed. Waking hours that would have been better spent tending to the affairs of his city or signing important documents, were instead wasted with his ghoul who had successfully blown the sleepover situation out of proportion by overreacting to his presence in her bed. Granted he probably would have reacted in the same manner with even further amounts of anger if he had awoken to a woman in his bed, but he certainly would not have jumped to the conclusion that they had slept together. This little bit of Valeska's behavior had infuriated him as not only was such an encounter with a mortal below him, but it insulted him that she thought him capable of taking advantage of her when she was unconscious. He may not have been the most polite person in the world (not that he needed to be with his prestige), but he had been raised to know the correct way in which to treat a lady. Valeska was clearly not the most ladylike woman in the world, but that did not mean she was any less deserving of the common courtesy to not be unknowingly forced upon.

Rather than discipline her for her imprudent accusations like he should have, for some reason he had allowed her to escape his wrath while he passively accepted her apology. It was very unlike him to do such a thing, but perhaps it was because he knew the importance of cleaning up and returning to his penthouse that this slipup had been made to occur. Yet even when she had thrown sass in his direction after his shower, he had only threatened her mildly before seating himself upon her sofa bed. The amount of work he was responsible for that evening did little to motivate him to vacate the premises, for strangely enough he felt relaxed in Valeska's dingy little apartment. Part of him whole heartedly believed that this was because the surroundings reminded him of the vacation cottage his parents had owned within the mountains. He had always enjoyed visiting that area, as the location had been acquired years after his sister's death, and thus proved to be a refreshing change when compared to the bittersweet memories he had shared with her on the ocean shores of Calais. At this specific point in his life it was a nice to be away from his refined penthouse every once in a while too, because though it effectively served in allowing him to keep an eye on his city, it sometimes felt more like a prison rather than a haven.

As much as LaCroix wanted to believe that it was his ghoul's apartment that had kept him there though, there was another part of him that had placed his faith in the absurd belief that he hadn't quite wanted to leave just yet specifically because of Valeska. Something about her was obviously different compared to his past ghouls, but he wasn't sure if it was due to her delectable blood or the way her personality kept constantly flipping back and forth. One minute her actions mirrored that of an Anarch rebel, and the next she was submitting to his every command. He preferred his underlings to be as loyal as possible, and this occasional outspoken streak of hers made her completely unpredictable as well as a possible risk to his reputation. However, what made this especially exasperating was that he wasn't entirely sure whether he despised or admired this little quirk she possessed. Naturally he should have outright hated the fact that he never knew what to expect from her, and in return severely reprimanded her until she was the perfect model of how a Camarilla servant should be. Yet he didn't.

In his mind was the perfect theory as to why that was, but this reasoning made him appalled with the immaturity his personality seemingly had. Nonetheless, no matter how he looked at it the Prince enjoyed a good verbal battle. Not one where the opponents fought viciously like cats and dogs, but one where someone challenged his authority only to be quickly knocked back down to the low levels of reality that they belonged. With Valeska, she would mouth off to him with some sarcastic wording and he would remind her of just how insignificant she was to him. He enjoyed exerting his power over another, but especially so with his new ghoul for one main reason.

Often was it that most of LaCroix's late night dealings varied between either his employees fully obeying his every demand or the Anarchs outright insulting him to his face. Both of these character traits could grow to be very tiresome for him to put up with, but his ghoul fell right in the middle of these extremes, being neither completely defiant nor one hundred percent obedient. She was rightfully fearful of what he might do to her, but not to the point where she would become a mindless robot incapable of voicing her own opinion. She made him feel even more capable than he already was at manipulating people, while at the same allowing him to feel almost…normal when they conversed.

His other ghoul, Mercurio, had possessed the opportunity to behave in the same manner, but the events that centered around his family in New York had pretty much made him emotionally dead for quite some time. He had been quiet and overly compliant, which was nearly completely opposite from the man that Sebastian had been observing from afar for months before taking him under his wing. Only in the last decade or so had Mercurio truly begun to regain the prominent traits of his personality back, but he was still cautious when interacting directly with the Prince. It wasn't something that was too surprising though, as Mercurio was an intelligent man who viewed others with just the right amount of friendly suspicion. He no doubt probably suspected or at least held the vague belief that his master had been behind the death of his family, and to a small degree he would have been right. Like many vampires tended to do with promising subjects, LaCroix had been testing Mercurio by slowly applying more and more difficulties into the jobs he ran within the mafia. The Prince had been confident that his future subject could handle it, but to be fair he had not planned on things unfolding the way they had. All his goal had been was to challenge his potential ghoul's resolve, which ended up snowballing into a tragic situation that could have been easily avoided. Still, in the end his family's deaths had served to tie up quite a few loose ends, so tragic or not, it really had been for the best.

Placing all thoughts of Mercurio aside, the main point here was that whether LaCroix wanted to admit it or not Valeska had unknowingly worked her way into his good graces. She had just enough skill of her own to be useful to him, her blood had unique properties to it, and her personality proved to him that there was a lot of room for her to grow in his organization. With a bit of time and work, she could probably easily work her way to being his top employee and because of this he felt the need to protect her. Or at least he hoped that was why because if not, then he wouldn't have had a good reason for blatantly assaulting her landlord. It was true that the insolent man had challenged LaCroix's authority which was mainly why he had given into his impulsive desires, but there was another underling reason for his actions and it was one that he feared was changing something deep inside of him. The thought of defending a woman's integrity came naturally to him, but actually doing so signaled that it was much more personal than he would ever let on. He had told Valeska that his actions were done out of the sensibility of protecting his investment, but he couldn't help feel that this was partially a lie. Of course he would never admit to that, but the thought remained with him even after he had left his ghoul's apartment following their little bit of verbal conflict.

Nights later when Grout's dinner party was set to occur, LaCroix found himself pacing his office trying to rush a decision based on the actions of one stupid vampire that had frenzied in the streets and exposed himself to a handful of mortals. He had intended to leave early when the matter was brought to his attention, and he was left to choose between severely punishing the Gangrel or letting him off with a simple warning. Normally this would have been a very cut and dry process of having his Sheriff haul in and execute the man before the Prince, but this individual in particular had proven himself relatively useful in the past. It was worth considering that since the person in question was from the Gangrel clan he was understandably closer to the Beast within him, and that it might be good for the Prince's image to display a bit of mercy. At the same time though, there was no real excuse for someone to give into their darker side, and granting too much forgiveness could border on giving him the reputation of being weak. If he really wanted to make the right impression as a Prince to his people, he could only do so by making it known that he was strong leader that valued Camarilla justice. Useful or not, considering any other course of action for the Gangrel vampire was clearly out of the question.

Since the guilty party had willingly brought himself to Venture Tower (perhaps in an attempt to escape being killed), LaCroix ordered that he brought in and disposed of by the Sheriff. Of course the Gangrel had begged for his life, as all except the very proud or stunned do, but the Prince stood staring down at him with not an ounce of sympathy in his eyes. He had places to be, so he didn't have the time to justify his actions or listen to the ramblings of a pathetic man who had no dignity within him left. Next, because he despised any kind of filth, he had his secretary find someone to clean his office before immediately heading to Valeska's apartment.

During the short time LaCroix had spent away from his ghoul, the work surrounding his business had successfully distracted him in thinking about her. Sure her image had popped into his head here and there, but so did everything else in his life. Just like he had hoped, drinking her blood had been quite effective in un-clouding his mind and refocusing his thoughts. While such a planned victory should have made him happy, it unfortunately did not. Having a calm and collected head was always nice, but if it meant being incapable of handling his responsibilities unless he had direct access to Valeska's blood when it was needed, then it was not definitely not worth it. Perhaps he would simply restrain himself from feeding from her until he had a better understanding of her blood's promise. However such a promise, no matter how logical it may have been, would not be easy to keep considering his mild obsession. Additionally, gathering research would be no easy task considering the fact that such a job would be better suited to a set of individuals that he would not trust to maintain this secret for a minute (the Nosferatu or Tremere for example). At best he might obtain some useful information, and at worst he might be blackmailed. Understandably then, it was something he was going to have to think very hard on before making an actual decision.

When he had finally arrived at his ghoul's living quarters, he hadn't expected to be very impressed with what she had chosen to wear. Her personality tended to be so blunt sometimes, and based on their most recent argument he almost anticipated walking in to see her dressed in something ridiculous to infuriate him. Instead he ended up literally doing a double take at her appearance, which was so surprising to him that he had a hard time believing that the woman standing in front of him was Valeska Latimer. Since he had wanted to keep an eye on her at least for the first few months, he more or less knew exactly where she was at all times. During the previous evening, he had gotten word that she had been visiting a number of shops in the Santa Monica Mall that weren't of the best quality. Interestingly enough though, she had had Mercurio at her side and now that he saw her, he could definitely see his older ghoul's influence all over her.

Much to the Prince's irritation though, Valeska's drastic change in attire made it so he was unable to speak as confidently as he would have liked for the first few minutes. It was absolutely preposterous, but he actually found himself saying 'uhm' more than once, licking his lips nervously, and fidgeting slightly. There was not a single reason for this juvenile behavior of his, and while he had straightened himself out quickly enough when he realized what he was doing, he only hoped that his ghoul was not as perceptive as she had shown herself to be.

On the way to Grout's mansion, his ghoul wound up once again surprising the Prince with the level of planning she had put into her work. He had employees that had worked for him for several years, but besides Mercurio and a select few, they rarely if ever actually impressed him. Often it even seemed that they actually put more effort into purposefully irritating him by failing the tasks appointed them rather than doing the right thing by successfully completing them. Yet here his new ghoul was, pleasing him not once, but twice within the same week with the latter job only being granted a couple of days for preparation. Perhaps it was the level of dedication his blood had inspired her to work so hard in his favor or maybe she was simply that capable. The results of tonight would tell him the answer, since devotion only went so far when compared to true skill.

Arriving at their destination as quickly as they had would have normally delighted LaCroix, but in this instance he had to deal with the irritation of an obviously insane door greeter and a minor flash of jealousy when he saw his doe-eyed ghoul gazing at his chauffeur. It would not have upset him nearly as much as it had if his driver weren't staring lustfully back at her, but he was, so the Prince had been swift in snatching Valeska away following a menacing glare directed at the man. It was likely that he held the pathetic belief that they shared some kind of connection because she was a ghoul the same as he, but in reality they was vastly different. A primary reason for this was because it was LaCroix's blood that flowed through her veins and not some other vampire, which made it so she was far more superior when compared to the average ghoul. No matter how talented he was or whatever wild flights of fancy he might have been imagining, his driver had no right looking at his property in that manner.

From then on, events unfolded in a rather predictable fashion except for the surprising fact that his ghoul was able to maintain a successful conversation with the dinner host himself, Dr. Aleister Grout. LaCroix initially figured that Valeska was playing friendly in an attempt to get on the Malkavian's good side, but he soon realized that her compliments were actually genuine. For the life of him he couldn't understand why, but somehow she found his disturbing painting and cheap lighting tricks to be awe inspiring. His jaw almost dropped toward the end of their chat though, when she was so blunt in sharing her poor opinion on Sigmund Freud that he was sure at any moment he would have to step in to apologize on her behalf. Instead, the Malkavian Primogen actually _laughed_ in agreement with her comments, and it seemed that the two were becoming fast friends. It was almost inspiring for the Prince to observe because not even he could work that fast due to the natural suspicion from some personages that came with his title. Things would have continued to go smoothly, until his ghoul decided to divulge who she worked for. With his superior perceptive abilities, it was clear that Grout eventually would have put two and two together on his own, but it was still a shame that Valeska had destroyed her chance of getting closer to him for information.

Of course then the Prince had no choice but to enter a short discussion with Grout, which had been full of ambiguous double meanings and huge amounts of paranoia that emanated from both sides equally. It was a game that was completely meaningless to anyone that wasn't directly involved, and to the untrained eye it probably appeared as though they were simply sharing a polite conversation. Although it was possible that Aleister Grout wasn't plotting against him, it was highly doubtful based on his recent behavior and his initial reaction to seeing LaCroix's presence that evening. In his mind then, there was no harm in promising the very vague threat that if he was crossed the consequences would be dire.

After this, LaCroix ended up snapping at Valeska in private for no reason other than because he could. She didn't really deserve it, but her actions with the Malkavian Primogen irritated him, and not just because he had ordered her to keep her words brief. He needed a scapegoat for his fury with the tension in the air, and though he had no reason to hate her, he wanted to. He would have loved to say that the woman cowering before him was as incapable and useless as most of his employees, but because she was not, he found it hard to deal something he wasn't used to. Whereas some superiors might have reacted with undue praise or humor to such a situation, LaCroix was not known for either and instead resorted to his natural defense mechanism of anger. In some small way though, his feelings were justified because of Valeska's previous comments about him supposedly being lonely.

Yet as infuriated as he wanted to be with her about that, everything that she had shared on her comparison of his personality and his living space had more or less been accurate. Her words had been genuine and even pleasing for him to listen to because of this, but when she had informed him of her opinion on his desire for company it had affected him more strongly than he would have originally thought. He reacted defensively to her comment as he always did when someone presented him with a piece of evidence that portrayed him negatively, though in this instance even more so because it was the truth. Indeed he was constantly surrounded by people that tended to his every need, but it wasn't for him that they did their duties but for their own selfish ambitions. Such a simple little comment had sent him into a contemplative state of remembering that there was no one he could truly trust, and it was because of this that he spent much of his time alone in his office. It wasn't that he really enjoyed solitude either, but as a Ventrue Prince it was something he had forced himself to appreciate due to the work he was responsible for and the dangers involved by those who plotted against him. Besides, it was better than playing to the masses by listening to the ludicrous prattling of the Primogen, or the childish insults thrown at him by the Anarchs who seemed more content to brood away in their dirty havens while being full of contempt.

It was shortly then after that Therese Voerman had interrupted the pair and he had been forced to deal with her slightly less than obvious brown nosing in the attempt to gain recognition; another reason why he probably preferred to remain alone in his tower. There was no doubt that she was an intelligent and capable woman, especially when it came to her business ventures, and despite her ego she behaved respectfully to a moderate degree. Additionally, as far as he had been made aware her leadership abilities in Santa Monica were decent enough, even if there were only a handful of vampires that lived there. If she were a Venture he would have been much more lenient in accepting her unofficial application to be granted a high ranking position within the Camarilla, but she was not. She was a Malkavian, and a highly unstable one at that because of her supposed sister who was constantly doing anything in her power to undermine Therese's authority. Jeanette, as she was apparently named, was vulgar, rebellious, and immature, or basically everything opposite of her sister. Prince LA wasn't sure which sister was the true one or even if they were aware that they shared the same body, but since he was aware of this flaw it wasn't something that he would tolerate so easily. Especially after Jeanette emailed him lewd photos of herself that bordered on pornographic material. Evidently this had been made to be a joke, but when he had to interact with Therese every so often knowing that he had seen most of her naked body by accident, it was not something to be taken lightly.

Luckily their conversation didn't last too terribly long, and he was able to move on to the task of socializing with the other vampires. Most of his efforts were dedicated toward the duties of his domain, like making sure there were no rumored threats lurking on the horizon, discussing the recent actions from the Anarch movement, guaranteeing the safety of a few anxious vampires, and of course, reminding those around him of his authority when it was needed. Like most of the individuals who had recently relocated to California, there was a lot of tension in the air along with questionable doubt on whether or not their current Prince was skillful enough in handling the Anarch situation. It wasn't that he needed to prove himself to his people, but a good leader knew the importance in restoring the public's faith every once in a while.

During this time, the Ventrue vampire had been attempting to keep an eye on his ghoul, but it seemed like a pointless thing to do seeing as how she wasn't doing very much at all. She had taken to sitting on one of the sofas next to the refreshment tables, though this had probably been done in the attempt to subtly observe the party guests. He would have preferred her to take a more active role in obtaining information, but he had after all ordered her to keep to herself. It was better this way though, and it pleased him that he wouldn't have to hold her hand through every task he gave her. Knowing that she was well enough to be on her own, he had decidedly let her be while he left the room for a moment to speak with a vampire that had requested his presence in private. This tended to happen frequently at these sorts of events, so it wasn't really that abnormal for LaCroix to spend most of time tackling personal issue after personal issue instead of enjoying the festivities. However, it was soon after he left the room that something odd did happen.

Now normally when it came to mortal heartbeats, LaCroix had learned early on how beneficial it was to cancel out such distracting noises. Obviously they were still there, but mortal pulses tended to blend into the background like any other sound that vampires eventually adapted too. It was strange then, that when Valeska's pulse had suddenly spiked, the Prince had immediately became aware of it and even excused himself from the personage he had been speaking with in order to find his ghoul. Something was very wrong, and he could sense it all the way from outside of the ballroom by her heartbeat alone. He wasn't sure if she was being threatened or if her true intentions had been discovered, but it was something that needed to be handled and quickly.

When he finally happened upon Valeska, he found that she looked very sickly indeed. Her breathing was erratic, she was more pale than usual, and her heart was beating even faster than it was before. However, when her eyes met with his, these symptoms seemed to vanish almost entirely while she had even addressed him for the first time ever as master. With such glaring evidence, clearly something menacing must have happened to her when he was away, but she confessed nothing and instead appeared relieved to see him. Had his ghoul actually been concerned for his safety? He had assumed she would know better than to think someone would attack him directly in a public place, but then again she had barely spent three weeks in his service, so this definitely seemed like it was the case. Even if it was probably just his blood that was having this effect on her, it was nice to know that at least someone was happy to see him as such favors he had not been used to for several over a century and a half now.

Rather than call her out on her obvious lie to his request if she was alright, he had asked her to dance with him instead. Dancing, which was a hobby the Prince quite enjoyed, had unfortunately become a custom that was slowly dying out in the modern age when compared to only a few centuries ago. LaCroix himself had been a very talented dancer back in his earlier age, as once his parents had acquired their great fortune they had spent vast sums of money on his education in becoming a gentleman. Those times during his late childhood had been harsh and lonesome, as it had been only shortly after his sister's passing. What made her death even more painful was that not even two days after she had passed, the case LaCroix's father had been working had been won, making it so their family could finally move out of the slums. If this had only happened a couple of days earlier they would have had the money to get a doctor, which ultimately would have possibly given her a fighting chance. Instead, it seemed that the god his family once revered so highly had wanted to add insult to injury.

Sebastian's emotional state might have developed a bit better if his parents had given him some much needed support, but Danielle's death had served as the building blocks of a cement wall that would keep the small family apart for years. His father had understandably turned to burying himself in his work related obligations of being a lawyer in order to support his wife and child, but his grief stricken mother had insolated herself in the rose garden her husband had commissioned for her. The cheerful woman he had once loved for her tolerance of constant dress pulling in order to share some new found sea creature, had turned cold and distant within only a matter of months. Rather than be there for her obviously suffering first born, fate had decreed that the rest of Sebastian's young life be handled by nannies and tutors.

At first his emotional anguish made it so he had struggled with his lessons, but soon the thought came to him that if he were to excel in them then the possibility of his parents remembering the love they once had for their son would be higher. Reading, writing, general math, dancing, proper etiquette, piano, painting, and even fencing were just a few skills that he were taught and quickly became superior in. However when the time came to seek the approval of his mother who he had not been aware was drinking at the time, she reacted with an explosive fit of rage and even went as far as to blame him for Danielle's death.

At the time, Sebastian had already been feeling a great deal of guilt due to the harsh fact that if the siblings hadn't snuck out to play in the rain, then Danielle wouldn't have gotten the high fever that eventually lead to her death. Yet his younger sister had always had the persuasive ability of begging her brother until his ears figuratively bled and he subsequently gave in to whatever she wanted. He may have pretended that he didn't care when he ignored the random sea shells she shoved in his face, but when the time came to it he would literally step in the way of gangs bullying his baby sister, only to return home with black eyes, a bloody nose, and bruises aplenty. Being told by his mother that he not only never cared for her, but it was without a doubt his fault she had died, had completely devastated the Prince with the guilt that had already been eating away at him.

When his father failed to defend him after that incident, it was then that LaCroix realized the importance of working not for the approval of his parents, but for the betterment of his own self. He would take fate into his own hands by utilizing his parent's fortune, and then moving on when he was done with them. He was polite and took their orders in the rare event that they demanded something from him, but for the most part he was more of their tenant or a trophy to be polished rather than their son. Danielle's death had unintentionally transformed them into something that could barely be considered a family, so consequentially when he left for the Royal Military Academy to acquire an artillery officer's training, there was very little if any emotion involved in his farewell. He hadn't known it then, but it would also be the last time he would have ever seen them, seeing as how after his graduation he immediately enlisted to join Napoleon's military force which eventually lead to his vampiric embrace.

Even now he didn't really miss them, or even feel sorrow that they had passed away during his time spent in the war. Things could have been so different between the three of them, but they were the ones that had unwittingly chosen to be nothing more than a stepping stone in his path to greatness. With their purposes fulfilled there was no reason left in him to care about them, even if they had left him the estate and their remaining fortune. The only family member that he still held any kind of affection for was his sister, and the loss of her life burned bright in his memory like a raging wildfire. Whoever it was that said time heals all wounds was obviously incorrect, because in over two centuries Sebastian's pain and guilt had at best dulled only slightly.

Due to how excruciating it was to remember anything about Danielle, LaCroix had become quite adept at keeping her locked away along with the other memories and emotions of his mortal life. He was a Prince, and one that was still only on the beginning steps of achieving his destined power, so he couldn't get caught up in useless sorrow and distracting thoughts. How surprising it was for him then, that he openly shared bits of his past with Valeska that he had never divulged to anyone except his sire. During the beginning of their dance he had been content to listening to his ghoul ramble on about herself, something else that he wasn't in the habit of doing very often. She was incredibly odd, almost to the point of being better suited to be a Malkavian's ghoul, but she was easy to talk to and there was something about this side of her that was refreshingly sincere. She wasn't wearing some fictitious mask to manipulate him or even blend in to those around her; she was simply being herself and sharing information about her childhood that he was more than willing to listen to in order to gain a better understanding of her personality. Gary Golden's report had been useful, but there was only so much that could be told about a person when compared to an actual account of their history.

History or not though, LaCroix was enjoying himself a bit more than he should have, especially after Valeska nearly tripped and he had pulled her closer in order to prevent this from happening. Inhaling the flowery perfume that she had never worn before with the combination of her usual scent was quite intoxicating for him, and being so physically close to his ghoul almost made him want to lead her into the next room so he could feed from her. He had yet to eat that evening, an unfortunate habit of a workaholic, but rather than drink from Valeska so soon after their last encounter, he decided that he would wait for the main course that occurred after the traditional dance that usually happened at Grout's dinner parties. Exercising a bit of self-control was not a challenge for the Prince, so really the only issue at hand was that hunger was not the only reason he had kept his ghoul so close to his own body.

This dance was not meant to be romantic in any sense of the word, but their close proximity would have definitely stated otherwise to the public. Knowing this and judging by the way his smiling ghoul was dreamily gazing into his eyes, he should have increased the distance between their bodies, but he didn't. He tried to mentally tell himself it was to prevent her from tripping again, but he knew this was only an excuse. He enjoyed the feel of her smooth skin against the palm of his hand as well as the fact that for the first time he was actually paying attention to her heartbeat. It was unusual for a mortal's, in that it remained slow and steady despite her obvious stimulation to his touch, but however sluggish it was still a distraction that he really did not need.

It didn't help matters either when his jealousy spiked for the second time that evening in regards to his ghoul informing him that she had been flirted with. She was _his_ ghoul and no one else's, so it was infuriating to think that someone had the nerve to unashamedly disrespect his authority by toying with his property. It was unsurprising though to learn that the person in question had been the overly flirtatious and poor excuse for a Toreador, Miss Velvet Velour.

The fact that one of Isaac Abraham's best associates was here was more than a bit suspicious in itself, and it worried him that he hadn't made note of her presence yet. A quick surveillance of the room revealed to him that the Toreador was currently dancing with Maximillian Strauss, which only served to increase his levels of paranoia further. Why on Earth would a Tremere Regent be fraternizing with someone who was in league with a well-known Anarch? Surely it wasn't because of some ridiculous attraction the Primogen had for the woman, but then again, many vampires for some reason as of late had been partaking in rather repulsive interactions with mortals and even one another. He had held the belief that Strauss was above such things, but even if he weren't, any respect the Prince might have had for him was significantly lowered if not gone all together.

His ghoul apparently hadn't been able to pick up on his irritation though, or if she had she was very foolish in that she had thought she might be able to test him with her little mind game. He was over two hundred years old and was well aware of the trickery that liars and manipulators often employed, especially since he often used them himself. Bringing her even closer to his body in order to threaten her for her stupidity gave him a rush of power that he hadn't quite expected, and once again she had caused a long forgotten set of others emotions to stir within him too. The closest thing he could compare it to was fighting the caged Beast within him except without the deadly consequences.

Even though he had not really wanted to speak with Primogen Strauss after seeing him with Miss Velour, LaCroix was grateful for his interruption. At least he was until he realized that the Regent desired to speak with Valeska in private. If it had been anyone else he might have been more willing to leave her alone, but knowing the Tremere clan, and this Regent in particular whose loyalties were now in question, he was rightfully hesitant. The Tremere's motives were always obscure and with his ghoul's blood being as unique as it was, the last thing he wanted was Strauss discovering this abnormality.

Eventually the Ventrue vampire gave in after he was told that the other Primogen sought his council. His duties as a Prince naturally took priority over Valeska, so he left the pair alone only to be informed by the clan leaders that they didn't really have anything in particular they wished to discuss with him. Grout, however anxious as he was, was able to tell the small group though that his presentation and the main course was set to begin, so everyone slowly began to gravitate into the next room except for the Prince. He was quite irritated in that it seemed as though the Regent had deliberately lied to him, which struck him as odd since the man always appeared to be more of the secretive and subtly manipulative type that preferred to avoid trouble by remaining in the background. It was possible that the Tremere Primogen had been mistaken in the assumption that Sebastian's presence was required, but after tonight's events it was quite suspicious either way.

Returning to Valeska however, he found that she was not only alone so that it ruined any chances of the Prince questioning Strauss, but that she looked as though she had seen a ghost. She was as pale as she was earlier when her heart had been beating wildly, while her face was full of confusion if not outright anger. When questioned of course she lied straight to his face _again_, but rather than dealing with her pathetic excuse of her supposed migraine, he set into motion the subtle order for her to get moving on the mission that she was responsible for. He could always interrogate her later on what the two had discussed, because happening right now was the perfect distraction for her to slip away unnoticed. Luckily she got the hint, and even did well enough to perfectly remember every single word that they had previously rehearsed.

As he watched her walk away, he noticed with annoyance that his eyes fell to her hips which her dress clung tightly to and inevitably flattered her body well. An hourglass figure was a historically attractive feature on women everywhere, but it was not something an elder vampire should have been affected by. Logically speaking, such feelings should have died within him long ago, but whether it was Valeska's blood or something else, clearly this assumption was wrong. No matter how infuriating this issue was though, it was not something that could be currently tackled. Grout's presentation was going to begin any minute now, and while it was not something he enjoyed wasting time on, as the city's Prince it was a necessary evil. Humoring the Primogen, settling petty arguments that were beneath him, leading a secretive double life in something as public as business, all of these were normal events in his everyday life. With such a busy schedule there was not a lot of room for his fascination of Valeska Latimer, and continuing to passively accept the fact that her blood was delicious with no concrete reasoning was not going to be tolerated for much longer. Soon something drastic was going to have to happen between them, whether it be that she no longer be under his employ, or that she reveal to him exactly what it was that made her so different.

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**Author's Note:** So like I said, this chapter was a bit longer than the ones I usually write. I know it was delayed, but from now on hopefully chapters will be published every few days. There was a lot that went on in this chapter, what with LaCroix's history and his developing attraction toward Valeska. His history I had hoped would give readers a better sense as to the possibility of why the man is such an asshole as well as very cold/indifferent toward the deaths of those around him (let me know your thoughts on this!). My main worry though is that I don't want to rush Sebastian and Valeska's romance, but I feel like I'm doing it anyway. Is this a good pace for everyone or am I going too fast? Let me know your thoughts on this since staying in character is always going to be one of my primary concerns in writing fan fiction. If you have any other comments, suggestions, critiques, or anything else you want to share, I'd love to hear about it so please feel free to share! =)


	26. Exploring the Estate

**Author's Note:** Greetings fellow mortals (or immortals if that be the case)! It pleases me to hear from the fans that the pace I've been taking in regards to romance is a good one. Accurate character portrayals are highly important to me, and knowing that I'm making scenes and thoughts believable based on this makes me very happy! Also in regards to the last chapter, I was informed by one of my loyal reviewers that V.V. was not actually the childe of Isaac Abrams. I did some research and this turned out to be correct, so logically I've gone back and changed a few things so that Velvet is only an associate of Isaac and not his childe. Anyway, this chapter is through Valeska's POV, and follows her on her exploration of Grout's mansion. It shows a side to the Malkavian Primogen, that reveals the deterioration of his personality throughout his years of solitude. It also gives a little insight into Valeska's past, has a few dark moments, and finally allows our main character to discover the side effects of vampire blood. Enjoy!

**Special Thanks:** Thank you ever so much to V-Fly-Trap for faving and following Secrets of Blood and to WildlingPrincess for following the story as well. Also, as always reviews are always appreciated, so I want to thank aberdeenkev, Lucius's Mistress, Sasha Naruto, sofilise, and myobsidianbutterfly for their continuing support and constant reviews. Thanks everyone!

**Responses: **To aberdeenkev: You're close with your thoughts on Valeska's father, he was very much so into magic! At this point in the story I can't say any more than that though, my apologies.

To Lucius's Mistress: I'm very happy to hear of your continued approval and curiosity with my story. Having a mystery of sorts tends to lure people in, so that's why I aim to have at least one. Oh, and you are very welcome in regards to acknowledging you publically as a reviewer. I appreciate the time my fans devote into reading my story, but especially so with writing a review, so thank you again! ^_^

To Sasha Naruto: Thank you for being worried for my health, but I'm doing much better now so no worries. =) LaCroix is developing an attraction towards Valeska, that's for sure, but not sure at this point if it's love or lust. I guess it's up to the reader to decide. Also, feel free to share anything you'd like. You can even PM the songs to me instead if you'd prefer!

To sofilise: I'm happy that I'm doing better too, and yay, happy belated birthday! Good timing on my part to post a chapter I guess? xD I'm also pleased to hear that my character portrayals are going well, and that LaCroix's thoughts are believable. This is my take on how I believe he would react to falling for someone, so it's good to know that others are enjoying it.

To myobsidianbutterfly: With someone who is as cold and selfish as LaCroix is, it's quite natural to assume that something terrible must have happened to him at some point in his life to make him that way. Events during our childhood often hit us the hardest, so I took advantage of this and played on his sister's death as well as his unsupportive parents. Thank you by the way for pointing out that Velvet wasn't Isaac's childe. I had always assumed she was, but I was wrong in this matter and have thus corrected the problem. The very handsome and well-spoken Isaac will eventually show up sometime later, but it might be awhile. Hang in there!

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**Chapter 25 Exploring the Estate **

The first thing Valeska made sure to do once she left the ballroom, was to subtly glance around to make sure that no one had followed her and that there were no guards standing about. Fate seemed to be in her favor as the halls were entirely empty, and though she couldn't be sure if there were any vampires using Obfuscate to spy on her, she didn't get that creepy feeling she had experienced when Gary had hidden himself in her apartment. Additionally there was only one passage left for her to venture down, making the area located directly across from the ballroom an easy choice of where to begin her search. Hurrying quickly down the red carpeted hallway and hoping her heels wouldn't make too much noise once she hit the tile, she encountered her first door that was unfortunately locked up tight. It mirrored the ballroom's own doors closely, but with an even more aged look to it that might have allowed it to be labeled as an antique.

Looking over her shoulder again for reassurance, Valeska kneeled next to the door and whipped out her lockpick, a tool in the world of thievery that would have actually been called a tension/torque wrench. Normally when stealing protected objects of value or breaking into points of interest, the ghoul preferred to have her full set of lockpicking tools that contained a number of tension wrenches and pin-pushers. Being caught with such a kit in this situation wouldn't have been very beneficial though, so she would simply have to resort to a single wrench and the bobby pin she had hidden within the bun of her hair.

Using her tension wrench, she inserted it slowly into the lower area that the base of a key would normally sit and gently turned the tool once in each direction to get a feel for which way the lock naturally turned. The left gave much more way leeway than the right, so with this information she reached into her hair and plucked free the lone bobby pin. With ease, she swiftly slipped the thin hair piece into the upper area of the lock, or where the teeth of a key would be, and did a few quick rakes. Raking was an expert employed method of shoving a pick to the back of a keyhole, pulling it out quickly while pressing against the top of lock, and finally by turning the tension wrench while all of this was happening. It was more of something that was done in the hopes of getting lucky and setting one or two of the pins within the lock, but it was dangerous in that it might do more damage than it was worth if one wasn't careful.

While the seemingly old fashioned door might have initially appeared simple to pick, this wound up not being the case at all. Attempting to rake the lock was worthless in that the pins seemed so awkwardly placed that she found herself unable to manage the task. When she turned to the actual picking process of pushing each individual pin up to its unlocking position, this too served to be surprisingly difficult. Valeska knew that she wasn't the best at doing these kinds of things in particular, but she figured she would have at least been skilled enough to get three of the seven pins set. Grout it would seem had gone through a great deal of trouble to hide whatever was behind this door though, so even if the lock was challenging, she wasn't about to give up on something that could have valuable information behind it.

Around five minutes later, LaCroix's ghoul finally heard the final faint clicking sound of the last pin being pushed into place and immediately put more pressure on her wrench while turning it to the left. A wave of joy shot through Valeska as the lock gave way, so after scrambling back up to a standing position, she returned her burglary tools back to their original places, took a deep breath, and slowly opened the door. At this point, just about anything could have been lying beyond her recently conquered obstacle and she still would have been ecstatic with the happiness she felt from her success. A wealth of secret information, a vault of old portraits, a stash of rotting dead bodies, or even a cross eyed purple duck would have been acceptable, but a solid brick wall was most definitely not.

"That's not fair…" was all Valeska managed to quietly say as she stood there for a few minutes trying to blink back her shock. She considered the fact that perhaps it was an illusion similar to an invisible wall or a trick of the eye, but after feeling the entire area of the wall, this assumption turned out to be incorrect. The next idea that popped into her mind was that the wall might have been like the one that hid the magical world of wizards in Harry Potter, and only by tapping out the right combination would Diagon Alley be revealed. However she soon realized how silly this possibility was, and that even if this were the correct way of entering the blocked off area, there was no way of knowing what the actual combination was. She only had so much time to find the evidence that her master had ordered her to retrieve, and wasting it on a brick wall that had probably only been placed out of paranoia or to abandon a bathroom that was no longer in use, was not a smart move.

Deciding to abandon the brick wall all together, Valeska flipped the lock on the other side of the door and closed it. It was annoying that she had wasted so much time on something that had led to nothing, and when she turned the corner to be faced with three more doors, the only thing she could do was let out an irritable sigh. Two of the doors were located to her right and the third was placed all the way at the end of the hallway. She didn't really want to waste any more time on picking locks, so instead she took to jiggling each of their respective handles. The first one wasn't even capable of budging an inch, so she moved on to the second one which was also locked, but at least had a bit more movement to it. Right as she was about to try the third door, she heard a faint crackling sound. Placing her ear to the door, Valeska closed her eyes in the attempt to focus her attention on the strange noise, but the best conclusion she could come to was that it sounded a bit like wild electricity. She was no trained electrician, so naturally she had no idea what was causing this noise, nor was she eager to find out knowing how twisted some Malkavians could be.

Glad that that specific door had been locked up tight, she went on to try the handle of the final door and was pleased to discover this room was open to the public, so to speak. Once safely inside, LaCroix's ghoul could only describe it as probably the largest personal library she had ever seen with dozens of wooden shelves packed tightly with books, stone travertine, and candlesticks seated in intricate holders that were mounted on the back wall. Being able to visit any place that held and shared vast amounts of knowledge such as libraries, museums, or zoos, were in Valeska's opinion, some of the greatest treasures that life had to offer. If she hadn't been in the process of obtaining incriminating evidence, then she gladly would have spent the remainder of the evening flipping through the thousands of books that the Malkavian Primogen owned, but sadly this was not meant to be.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Valeska hurriedly took a few more steps into the library and scanned the area. As much as there was to see in the two story room, there were only a few places in return that she could actually search through for information. There was a small desk at the far end of the room, but once she walked up the room's stone steps in order to open the main drawer of the piece of furniture, all she found was a handful of writing utensils and a thick yet neatly stacked pile of blank paper. Next to the desk was a tiny table of sorts, but all that lay on top of that was a mostly empty notepad that contained a few odd poems/notes about the possibility of a harmonious balance between perception, the mind, and time. It was definitely interesting, but not really useful when considering her main priority.

Sighing she placed the notepad back on the table and closed the desk, before she noticed that the room had not one, but two old recording devices. As unlikely as it was that Grout would be foolish enough to record any devious plots against the organization that he worked for, Valeska knew that she couldn't simply disregard the possibility of solid evidence existing on the machines. Besides, it would give her the opportunity to browse through the doctor's book collection while she listened to his prerecorded words. Approaching the device that was closest to her, she examined it for a brief moment and then hit the play button. She wasn't really worried about the sound level it would exert seeing as how everyone else was preoccupied, but she was grateful none the less that the volume wasn't too terribly loud.

As she began to look through Grout's huge collection of psychology books, she couldn't help but feel a bit of unease when she heard of his opinion on insane asylums. His words reflected a time period of centuries ago when barbaric measures had been practiced within the mental hospitals that rivaled even the most abusive of living situations. Yet the Malkavian's disturbing recording had instead lovingly described the sanitariums and had even served to share his sorrow on their disappearance. How anyone could have appreciated those nightmarish locations was beyond Valeska, but it was worth considering that during Grout's era, asylums had been viewed as a positive and reinforcing method of dealing with the mentally insane. It wasn't really fair to judge someone because of what they were raised to believe, so she was willing to give the Malkavian Primogen the benefit of the doubt in this situation that he wasn't actually a deranged individual.

The second recording really hadn't begun as anything that Valeska didn't already know, as all it seemed to have on it was a long, yet well-spoken rant on Grout's dislike for Sigmund Freud. While flipping through his books, the ghoul found herself smirking at his opinions since she shared them as well, but her eyes shot up when she heard him mention a cure. Automatically she presumed that he must have meant a cure for vampirism, but then she was reminded of the fact that he was a psychiatrist, not an educated biologist. Then again, psychiatrists of the past had to be well schooled on the mental, emotional, _and_ physical reactions of not only medications, but bizarre surgeries too. While as crude as an operation like a lobotomy was, it would not be too terribly unusual to learn that Grout had already done a few in his past, which would have made him a skilled surgeon in addition to having his degree in psychology.

What really interested her though was the good doctor's comment on his supposed wife, as the ghoul had not been made aware of the woman until now. This recording in particular made her wonder a dozen things all at once, like what his wife was like, whether she was still alive, and of course how far he had gotten on his cure for vampirism, if he was even still working on it. These contemplations however could only barely be related to her current mission, and thus she was left to shove them to the back of her mind until they could be put to use.

After a few more minutes of book browsing, partly for information, but mostly for curiosity's sake, Valeska decided to leave the library and continue her search elsewhere. Before tonight she had been well aware of the fact that her task would not be simple, but none the less her hopes so far had fallen rather quickly. It wasn't her fault of course, but she felt disappointed in knowing that she might have to settle for simple blackmail material rather than the evidence her Prince desired. She wanted her master to be pleased with her, and not because she desired some form of earthly reward, but because seeing LaCroix happy was a gift in of itself.

This train of thought caused her to feel disturbed yet again though, since her grandmother's health was supposed to be her primary concern, not making sure that some pompous and overly selfish individual was content during all times that his ghoul was present. Either way, it wasn't something she could get caught up in at the moment. One of her greatest talents was having the ability to control or even outright ignore her emotions should the need arise for her to have a great deal of concentration, such as with school or work. For example, at one point in her life she had gotten the tragic news of one of her closest friends committing suicide right before Valeska was set to take her high school finals. While most people probably would have excused themselves entirely from the test, Valeska had shut her emotions down so that she would be capable of acing the exam with a clear head. A few of her friends from then on out had considered her a cold individual to be avoided, but it turned out that there was a method to her madness. In the end, tuning out her feelings had worked in focusing her thoughts and as such granted her a near perfect grade for all of her finals. Of course immediately after all of her tests she had allowed her grief to take ahold of her which resulted in crying for three hours straight. In this instance, she obviously didn't need to cry, but feelings of attraction and confusion could be canceled out until the job she had to do was done.

Considering that Valeska had already seen all there was to see in the hallway she was in, she decided to retrace her steps to the ballroom in the hopes that some of the doors she had previously seen were unlocked. Before she entered the grand room again though, she realized that the silence that hung in the air like an invisible fog would have been destroyed should she choose to walk across the area with her noisy heels. Vampires already had superior hearing abilities, and even if they were being distracted by Grout's presentation that she secretly wished she could be watching, the dining room that the guests were located in was right next to the ballroom so they would easily be able to hear her nosy footsteps.

Slipping off her shoes and keeping them in one hand, she swiftly but silently made her way across the ballroom while trying to resist the urge to run and slide on the knees of her dress. Just like jumping onto her bed after a hard day's work, sliding on tile while wearing socks or in this case a dress, was something she was well known for doing and often without any warning to those around her. Right then and there it would have been highly entertaining to slide across such a large area, but she really didn't want to blow her cover by giggling like mad.

Right as she was bout to reach the end of the room, her right foot made a slight squeak on the tile, causing her to instantly freeze on the spot. She stood still for a moment, but when no one came out to investigate, she exhaled quietly in relief. Approaching the door she had planned to enter, she found as expected that it was locked shut. Glancing hopelessly around, she found that the only remaining doors were those that lead to the dining room, and those located on the second story that she had no idea how to reach. She closed her eyes for a moment trying to desperately recall the blueprint her master had given to her to memorize, but the only areas she remembered were ones that weren't readily accessible, while the information she actually needed came up blank.

Not really having a choice in the matter, she took out her thievery tools and got to work on picking the lock, all while trying to remain as quiet as possible. At that moment she was incredibly thankful that her father had taught her many of the skills she had today, because if he hadn't then she probably wouldn't have worked to refine them, let alone possess them at all. In fact, most of her early childhood had been spent living simply off the land with her father as the pair stole only what they needed to survive. The two tended to do a lot of traveling for some reason that remained unknown to Valeska at the time, but now she knew it was probably to avoid suspicion since they resembled homeless gypsies in a way.

When the time came for Valeska to finally start school, her father had done well in staying put for an entire year. However, when she had graduated on to the first grade, apparently her father saw fit to remove her from the school she was attending in order to travel back to Arizona and visit his wife's mother, or in other words, Valeska's grandmother. As a child she had been taught to be perceptive, and when she had seen her father and grandmother interacting, it had been obvious their relationship was strained. Maybe it was because the ghoul's father had played an unintentional part in his wife's death, or maybe it was for some other reason, but the two had argued for two hours straight while Valeska had been sent outside to play. She had never liked the feel of the sun on her skin though, so she had sat in the shade listening to their heated debate that only came across as muffled words and caused her to tear up with the thought that their argument was her fault. Events after that were vague, in that her father had approached her in private and told her that he would be leaving, but would return shortly.

However, her father never did come back. Valeska had spent hours after the sun went down sitting on her grandmother's porch awaiting her father's return, and only after she had been ordered inside due to the dangers of wild animals had she retired for the day. As soon as she woke up though, she was back out on the porch steps staring out into the distance while employing an unusual amount of patience for a young child. She realized eventually that she had been abandoned, but even with this thought, every afternoon after school had been spent waiting for his return. Doing this had broken her grandmother's heart, but Valeska had been well aware of this fact and had hoped it would manipulate her guardian into finding her father. It was a foolish and selfish thing to do, but after all, it was what she had been raised to know how to do.

A clicking sound suddenly sprung from the lock Valeska was picking, distracting her from her sad memories, and causing her to realize just how surprisingly easy the door at large was to open. However, when she went to move onto the next area, she found that it was enshrouded in total darkness. Only the first few feet of the room were illuminated because of the ballroom's own lights, but fortunately it was more than enough for the ghoul to slip inside and gently close the door. She stood for a few minutes to allow her eyes to adjust, but this did very little in granting her the ability to essentially see anything that lay in front of her. All she could really tell was that she was standing on either a rug or a carpeted area due to how soft the ground felt in between her toes.

Knowing that her situation wasn't going to get any brighter (actual pun intended), Valeska slowly begin to inch her way forward while attempting to heighten her senses to the best of her ability. Her eyesight at this point was practically useless, so why not take advantage of the situation by focusing on her sense of touch, smell, and hearing? Feeling her way around with her bare feet and hands was especially essential in this instance, as her third or fourth step revealed what felt like a set of stairs leading down. There was no banister like Valeska preferred to have when walking down a stairwell, but she didn't have time to be picky. So, with a bit more speed she began to descend on her path to a destination that was completely unknown to her.

Each step she took downwards though was slowly but surely increasing her anxiety levels, as she had no clue where she was going or even what lay in store for her to discover. She understood that this was a natural reaction to experiencing the fear of the unknown, but it didn't make her feel any less tense. For all the pride she had in being able to exercise a considerable degree of control over her emotions, apparently this was not the case when facing her fears. Having a slight panic attack earlier, being nervous around hairdryers, and being downright scared shitless when entering an elevator revealed enough evidence in that department.

Luckily the stairs weren't too terribly long, and soon the ghoul found herself approaching a dimly lit area that resembled a foyer of sorts. She was grateful to be able to see again, but a revolting smell that resembled rotting corpses or perhaps human filth crept up into her nostrils and made her want to vomit. She had absolutely no idea where the scent was originating from, but one thing she did know was that she was not anxious to investigate the source. Recalling the recording she had heard earlier about Grout's preference for insane asylums naturally did nothing to soothe her nerves, since all it did was remind her of his rather unsettling opinions surrounding them. Before she might have been able to give the doctor the benefit of the doubt, but now she wouldn't put it past him to continue practicing outdated medical techniques that involved slicing open a person's head in order to 'fix' them.

Noticing that the ground looked like it hadn't been washed in decades, Valeska slid her shoes back on and cautiously walked forward to the room that was in her direct line of eyesight. The lighting here was also quite poor, but it was enough so that the ghoul could make out a small table with yet another recording device on it right outside her intended destination. After pushing the play button, LaCroix's minion stood absolutely still as she listened to the doctor whose diary entry as she was going to call it, discussed his worries behind his newly developing symptom of hearing voices. Grout apparently found these voices to be interesting yet also terrifying because they seemed to offer insight that couldn't normally be gained through a normal conversation.

Now Valeska of course knew that this was a common side effect of being a Malkavian so she wasn't really interested in what the doctor was saying. At least she wasn't, until he mentioned his fear of a highly powerful vampire that he sadly would not reveal the name of out of paranoia. It was a clever thing to do, but frustrating for someone that was supposed to be finding incriminating evidence. Still, although she couldn't literally present Grout's diary to her master, she could at least reassure LaCroix of the obvious facts that the Malkavian's paranoia was through the roof, and that he was indeed hearing voices from his colleagues.

When the recording finally shut off, the ghoul sighed and went to enter the room she was originally heading toward, but immediately she wanted to turn back when she saw what it contained. The room, which was of decent size, had a majority of its floor completely caked in old rust colored blood that looked like someone had either been thrashing about within it or desperately crawling away from some unknown assailant. In some sick twisted way, the image made Valeska think of a darker version of a child's slip and slide that could have only been thought up of by a madman. There were several long wooden tables lying against the left side of the room, and neatly laid out upon them were a handful of menacing surgical tools. Some of the tools were in pristine condition as though they had never been used once, while others like a large cutting saw were coated in many dark crimson layers. Next to the long list of laid out tools were a handful of books, with some of them lying wide open and some of them not, that the ghoul promised to look through once she finished her overview of the room. Also littered throughout the area, were several boxes that upon closer examination revealed additional surgical tools, gloves, glass chemistry items, books, and even bones that looked like they had been polished clean for hours. Finally, there were sinks containing puddles of bright red blood, an entire wall full of x-rays, a freezer that wouldn't budge no matter how hard the door handle was pulled, restraining chairs that looked more like torture devices, medicine cabinets chock-full of drugs, and even a metal operating table that was also coated in fresh blood.

Overall the place looked like it had been taken straight out of someone's nightmare, and though Valeska was not one to be disturbed quite so easily, she could practically sense all the horrifying deeds that had been done there which in turn served to unnerve her substantially. Things didn't get any better when she saw yet another recording device, and found that all it discussed was the bloody experiments he had inflicted upon his victims. One poor man who had gone by the name of John, had apparently chewed off his arm in order to escape the brutal torture bestowed to him, but Aleister Grout's voice had not one ounce of sympathy within it as he described the event. In Valeska's mind, the doctor must have been seriously lacking in moral judgment, because no matter how unstable a patient was it didn't justify the horrifying things being done here. These days there were drugs to assist the mentally ill, as well as behavior and cognitive therapy that did not require cracking open someone's skull to operate on their brain.

On the flip side it was only fair to consider that if the doctor's seemingly twisted actions had been done in order to find a cure for vampirism, then Valeska was willing to forgive him. Being immortal and having superior senses was probably a fantastic way to live out one's existence, but there were still obvious downsides to being a vampire such as surviving strictly off blood or constantly avoiding the sun. The people being experimented on here were probably innocent and not deserving of such heinous torture to discover something as selfish as a cure, but Valeska held the firm belief that sometimes the end justified the means. So far she had seen nothing that looked like Grout was working towards a cure in this specific room, but then again, she was neither a chemist nor a biologist, so evidence for an antidote might have been sitting right in front of her face and she wouldn't have known it.

Taking a brief moment to gather back her wits, she took a deep breath and approached one of the long tables that contained most of the room's books in the hopes that the Malkavian Primogen might have jotted down a few notes. There were novels of all kinds, but most of them were outdated and seemed to focus on the human body, medicine, or surgery. One rather thick book in particular had been opened to a crude picture of the human brain that showed the easiest way of gaining access to the vital organ _without_ the use of any kind of narcotic. Such an image of a restrained person wide awake and screaming as their skull was cracked open was horrifying to imagine, so the ghoul quickly moved on to what looked like a personal diary of medical notes with splotches of blood splattered here and there upon them.

Turning to the first page of the journal, Valeska was surprised to discover that the logged date was nearly eighty years ago. Basic psychological experiments had been eloquently recorded in finely written cursive font for the first few sections, and things seemed innocent enough for several decades until Grout's work took a turn for the worst. Apparently the doctor had accidently discovered the power his blood held in making ghouls, but rather than call them as such, he blatantly labeled them as vitae slaves. This lead to a push in boundaries in what could be done to his now submissive patients, as even though they had been taken in off the streets, they had still had somewhat of a choice in what type of therapy they were involved in. At least they did, until they all became insane blood addicted minions willing to say or do anything in regards to their master's dark agenda in order to get their fix.

Each word that Valeska read frightened her further and further seeing as how she was a ghoul herself, but her fear hit an all-time high once she read about his past year of work involving what was known as a blood bond. Although the doctor had already discovered the level of devotion his minions had towards him, he was apparently pleased in having solid evidence from the vampire community that if a person was fed vampire vitae on three separate occasions within the same month, then they would be forever loyal to their master. Valeska's own blood practically ran cold at that point, because finally everything was starting to make sense. How forceful LaCroix had been in making her drink his blood, the developing attraction she had towards him, and Mercurio's own hesitation in explaining the side effects of vampire vitae; everything had been because of the Prince's vitae. All along the son of a bitch had been planning to make her nothing more than some mindless slave addicted to his blood, which probably meant he had predicated or even hoped that she would eventually fall for him so that he could more easily manipulate her.

Since the beginning, she hadn't been sure of why she couldn't trust the Prince, but something deep down inside of her had told her she would have been better off running far, far away from the man after her first time meeting him. Finally she understood these intuitive feelings, as her boss's betrayal felt like she had been figuratively stabbed in the heart. However, now she wasn't sure if she should start crying out of desperation or to angrily march back upstairs to break that smug Ventrue's nose. He had flat out lied to her, and then forcefully exposed her to a world that she would have happily preferred to remain oblivious of. Now every time she stepped outside she was either fearful of being drained dry by some monstrous Sabbat member, or dealing with her confusion on whether someone was a vampire or not just because their skin was pale. It was literally driving her insane, and her thoughts of abandoning her new life to return to her old one had yet to stop badgering her consciousness.

Trying to remain calm, the ghoul realized that she was being overly emotional, and that none of her proposed choices of crying or breaking someone's nose would have solved her problem. She still had a job to do, and one that she hoped would pay as handsomely as the last one did since she still needed money for her living expenses as well as for her grandmother's continued survival. Nonetheless, the last thing she was going to do was let herself remain in the position of being someone else's slave. After she finished this job, she would simply inform the Prince of her decision to leave his employ in a polite yet to the point manner. She would make sure to show her appreciation of the opportunities he had offered her, but she would be firm in letting him know that this was her decision and that she would stand by it no matter what. If he reacted with violence and proceeded to attack her, then so be it. Possibility of financial gain or not, she wasn't going to let herself be manipulated into being his pawn when there were other ways of supporting one's self.

Recognizing that the knot in her stomach had untied itself in response to her recent thinking, Valeska redirected her attention back to Grout's medical journal, only to find that his entries had slowly begun to change after his official initiation into vampire society. His words had become fiercely cruel after each turn of the increasingly bloody pages, and his experiments, which had already been morally questionable before, had also been drastically modified in the obsessive hope that he might somehow procure an antidote for his sickly wife. During the past month alone, the Primogen had begun to test the threshold of pain in his patients for no other reason than because he was losing faith in himself due to the numerous voices that distracted him from his work.

Finally, towards the end of the doctor's notes it seemed as though he had given up entirely on his work, as his words were no longer eloquent and concise, but frantic and nonsensical. The second to last page seemed as if Grout were fighting some kind of inner battle between five people that had somehow been translated to paper, as his words had been written in different sizes, upside down, with odd symbols, and even in what was assumed to be different languages. When Valeska turned to the final page, she was surprised to see a coherent set of words that spanned the entire length of the page due to how many times they had been repeatedly written. The words were nothing more than 'clinical expires or mirth ventures', but it seemed so odd for such a handful of verses to be recorded over a dozen times. It made Valeska feel as though there was something special behind them, especially since she was dealing with someone like Aleister Grout who practically spoke in conundrums as is.

Reaching into her clutch purse, the ghoul pulled out her small camera and began to quickly snap away photo after photo of each page that she considered might be useful. Even though the pictures wouldn't have any solid evidence of Grout conspiring against the Camarilla, Valeska hoped that the Prince would still be pleased with the potential blackmail she would soon be providing him with. If she was lucky, the material might just serve to help in smoothing over her resignation of being his ghoul, though she doubted that even the most incriminating evidence served on a silver platter would tame the temper of the man she planned on dealing with momentarily.

After flipping back to the last page and taking a picture of it, Valeska couldn't help but stare in confusion at the long list of repeated words while she returned her camera to her coin purse. Thinking hard on any oddities that stuck out about the words or attempting to change their order did little to solve the presumed puzzle, which made Valeska simply want to give up out of frustration. Then it hit her, it wasn't the words that needed to be moved around, it was the letters that needed to be rearranged to form a new phrase!

However, right as she was about to begin the mental task of solving the anagram, a sudden clashing sound coming from the other room halted this process. Nearly tripping in the process, Valeska quickly scurried behind one of the room's medicine cabinets and tried to control her breathing. Her pulse was behaving much like it had earlier in regards to her worries of the Prince, and though she luckily wasn't on the verge of having a second panic attack, she could slow neither her heartbeat nor her breathing no matter how hard she tried. Since the ghoul was much too nervous to move out of her hiding spot, the only thing she could really do was to sit with her knees tightly tucked to her chest as she attempted to prepare herself for the inevitable conflict that was bound to occur.

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**Author's Note: **Surprise, cliffhanger! I hope this doesn't any upset anyone too horribly, but the chapter was stretching a bit longer than I had intended, and thus made it so I would half to cut it in half. Not a lot for me to say at this point in regards to the chapter, but I do promise that Valeska quitting her job will not be as easy as she thinks it will be so don't worry about the two splitting up just yet. Also, if anyone solves the anagram before I post it in one of the upcoming chapters, than they shall be considered utterly awesome in my mind. I will grant to the public one hint though, and that is that the letters can be rearranged to form a phrase with six words. It might be a little tough, but I wish everyone luck none the less! The next chapter will probably be continued through Valeska's POV, but coming up soon will be a chapter through Grout's POV. I'll have to really think about which one I want to write first, but in the meantime feel free to drop in your own two cents about this chapter! I know that I took a few risks in revealing a darker side to Aleister Grout, but the things we saw in his mansion made it so I wouldn't put such things past him. As a side note, I know that in the game the recording of John biting off his own arm was not located in Grout's operating lab, but for my story's sake I put it there anyway. Hopefully my readers have enjoyed this chapter, and please drop a review if you can!


	27. Cruel Conflict

**Author's Note:** So I decided to go with writing my next chapter through Valeska's POV and not Grout. I had quite a bit of fun with this part of my story, because I got the chance to really play around with some darker themes centered on insanity. As you can tell by the last chapter, I'm sticking to nearly the exact layout of Grout's actual mansion in the game before it was messed up by his ghouls. I won't say much more about this chapter as to not spoil anything, but we do get to see a slightly different side to Valeska along with someone who is only vaguely mentioned in the game. Enjoy!

**Special Thanks: **Thank you _very_ much to Sasha Naruto, Lucius's Mistress, myobsidianbutterfly, and LadylayDE for the reviews of the last chapter! I wuv you guys and am glad that you are all continuing to enjoy my work. ^_^

**Responses:** To Sasha Naruto: Yes Grout is very dark isn't he? Then again every character in that game has a darker side, so I suppose it isn't too surprising to learn about their secrets. I think you may be correct in believing that LaCroix is falling for Valeska, and in upcoming chapters that will definitely reveal itself even more.

To Lucius's Mistress: Yes I'm a huge HP fan, so I figured I would throw that reference in. You're right about LaCroix not letting Val leave his employment, because let's face it, if the Prince wants something he'll get it. Grout was an amazing character, I agree and playing through as a Malk really is the best way to play VTMB. I only wish that the main character could have gotten the chance to meet him, but I guess that leaves his personality as more of a mystery.

To myobsidianbutterfly: Thank you for the compliments, and no worries on offending me because I was not. =) I prefer to have people point out any mistakes I make so that I can fix them, so please don't think you upset me. *hugs*

To LadylayDE: Don't worry about not dropping a review for the last chapter, I completely understand how busy life can get. I'm pleased to hear that you're enjoying my portrayal of LaCroix. Many players I'm sure are used to hating him, but I wanted to give readers a reason for why he is the way he is. He's still worthy of being despised, but at the same time you feel pity for him to some degree. I'm also glad that you laughed at the brick wall part, as showing a humorous side to Grout's oddness was my intention for that part. Finally, the anagram's answer is revealed in this chapter, but I can't say what LaCroix will do when he hears of Val wanting to quit in the next chapter.

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**Chapter 26 Cruel Conflict **

Several minutes had passed, and yet Valeska Latimer had remained behind the medicine cabinet out of the fear of being discovered. If she had been found upstairs wandering the halls, she might have gotten away with the classic bathroom excuse. Now though, there wasn't a single reason she could possibly generate that would justify her presence in an obviously off limits area. She contemplated the possibility of making a dash for it, but knowing that it was most likely a vampire she was up against, there was no chance of her outrunning or even overpowering such an individual. Additionally, there was only so much time she had left before Grout would be done with his presentation, and knowing that she had already wasted a fair bit of it hiding, her best bet was to outright announce herself to whoever was outside the operating room. From then on she would simply have to wing it with her choice of words in the hopes that she might avoid having to resort to physical violence.

Allowing herself a brief moment to gather her courage, the ghoul took a deep breath and stood up. Deciding she would go with the lie of finding herself lost in Grout's mansion, she put a feigned expression of confusion on her face and left the revolting scented room that made her want to pride herself in not regurgitating the contents of her stomach. However, when she got whiff of the room located next to the one she had just been in, the smell emanating from it was somehow even more disgusting. Resisting the urge to hold her nose, she cautiously poked her head into the area to see that it looked much like the operating room except for one minor difference: the body of a person was hunched over in one of the room's corners. Not even thinking twice about her own personal safety, Valeska rushed as fast as she could over to the person she hoped was not dead, and kneelt down next to them.

Turning over what she assumed to be a male, Valeska could automatically tell by how stiff and cold his body was that he had been dead for quite some time. That plus half his face had already been eaten away by a large rat that scampered away, and immediately caused Valeska to retract her hand in shock. To make the situation even more disgusting, she looked downwards to see a whole pack of smaller rats that had been nesting underneath or perhaps within the man's rotting body. The ghoul had never once held a phobia of rodents, but the overwhelming image in front of her made her quickly turn tail and run from the room without bothering to glance back once.

Only when LaCroix's ghoul had taken a moment to calm her nerves, did she realize that the rats were probably what had caused the loud crashing sound she had heard earlier since there hadn't been anyone else in the immediate area. While not being caught did comfort her substantially, she still wished that she could have known who the perpetrator was without having to have such a nightmarish picture burned into her memory. Sure she had encountered dead bodies in her past with most of them having been that way because of her, but when one of them surprised her in the manner similar to what she had just experienced, it wasn't something easily forgotten. Suddenly a smile crept up onto her face when the humorous fact that she had been dealing with dead people over the past few weeks popped into her mind. Those animated corpses, unlike the one she had just encountered, were obviously different though so it wasn't quite the same. Still, it was amusing enough to distract her from what she had just seen.

Holding her nose because there was no one around to play innocent to, Valeska glanced back into the room to see that some of the rats had returned to the corpse. She didn't dare reenter the area out of the fear that she might be bitten by one of the disease carrying rodents, but she was still tempted out of curiosity to figure out who the deceased man was. Knowing who he was wouldn't really serve to be useful in any respect though, so instead she let her eyes wander to a clock hanging on the room's walls that showed that she still had a fair bit of time before she was due to report back to the Prince.

Seeing as how she was not anxious to return to the man she no longer considered to be her master, she decided that spending a bit more time exploring Grout's mansion wouldn't have done any real harm. So far she already had some blackmail going for her, but having actual evidence of the Malkavian Primogen's treachery would make quitting her job all the more easier. Suddenly this reminded her of the anagram puzzle she had yet to solve, so with this in mind she hurriedly returned to the operation room in the hopes that the new set of words might be incriminating. Puzzles of all kinds were really something of a hobby to Valeska, so naturally it only took a few minutes of staring at the last page of Grout's medical diary to figure out what the anagram translated to. The phrase didn't really come as much of a surprise though, as the words that she wholeheartedly agreed with simply read as: Prince LaCroix lies, never trust him.

As if she didn't already know this, Valeska simply scoffed at what should have been considered common knowledge to anyone who had ever met with the Prince. It was debatable whether or not her boss would be happy with the assumed answer of the Grout's riddle, but either way it still wasn't enough to condemn the doctor one way or another. Just because he held mistrust for someone didn't mean he was conspiring to overthrow them, so the ghoul decidedly left the operating room in order to continue her search. Since her eyes had pretty much adjusted to the low level of light, she was able to see that on her right was yet another pair of stairs that had only a few steps.

As she descended down the empty winding hall that had multiple of steps, it made her wonder just how many levels the Malkavian Primogen had established in his house and what point that even served. If the only individuals that lived here were Aleister and his wife, then why have did he have so many rooms? Wealthy well to do people had never really made sense to the ghoul, as just with LaCroix, it seemed that they tended to surround themselves with things they didn't need simply because they could. Dr. Grout had a dark agenda that clearly needed to be kept hidden from the public, so having dozens of rooms to conceal his secrets made sense, even if it was a bit excessive.

Logically she knew that somewhere in the doctor's mansion, was an area that had to be dedicated to housing his patients. Yet out of everything she might have expected to see in regards to this, she still found herself being incredibly surprised by the fact that Grout had literally built his very own mini asylum in the bowels of his mansion. The outside area of the sanitarium seemed innocent enough, with just a simple pair of double doors that lead to a hallway lined with the usual wall lanterns displaying the illusion of eerie green stained glass. However, once Valeska made her first turn she came face to face with a series of metal doors that only had a small slot that the ghoul presumed must have opened in order to observe the patients.

Carefully, LaCroix's ghoul approached the first metal door she saw and slid open the slot to see a mostly barren room that was surprisingly clean with bright padded walls. Besides a bed, there was nothing else of interest except that the red head ghoul that had previously greeted Valeska and LaCroix was fast asleep on the piece of furniture. Currently the young woman gave the impression of a dog or some other animal having a nightmare, because after every few seconds she would violently kick out one of her legs. Looking at the other half of the small room, she then observed that the red head seemed to have an identical twin that was curled up on the floor. Unlike her supposed sister, the woman on the ground was wide awake and staring at the ceiling blankly, with her breathing being so minimal that she might have been mistaken for a corpse. Taking a quick snapshot with her camera, Valeska closed the peep slot, and moved on to the next door whose concealed room must have had a faulty light system due to the way it could be seen flickering from underneath the door.

Opening this slot revealed a vastly different cell when compared to the previous one, for it was incredibly filthy with its padded walls ripped open and covered in multiple layers of bloody pictures that almost looked like they had been painted by a child. Huddled in the corner was an individual with pale dirty skin that couldn't have been much older than sixteen. He really didn't do very much other than sit there with half his face covered by his long greasy black hair, as he stared down at the ground with wide glassy eyes. Then Valeska's noticed that he had torn open one of his wrists, presumably so he could have an ample supply of fresh blood for his wall art.

A few more pictures were taken, as Valeska couldn't help but feel a great deal of pity for the teenager. Closing the cell's slot she contemplated releasing all of Grout's prisoners, but such an impulsive move would without a doubt result in blowing her cover while at the same time putting her own life at risk. She was also certain that the Prince wouldn't have been pleased with his ghoul should she choose to release the patients, and since she needed to keep him happy until she dropped the bomb of her resignation, she selfishly ignored the moral side of her conscience. Getting torn between what was wrong or right was meaningless at this point anyway, seeing as how the ghoul had already broken into a private section of Grout's home and stolen valuable information from the doctor. One could argue that Valeska's current crimes had the possibility of preventing Grout from committing further monstrous acts, but since she was working for a man who was probably just as bad as the Malkavian Primogen, this made the issue more controversial than it already was.

Realizing that there were no more padded cells to examine in the immediate area, Valeska moved through a pair of double metal doors that easily slid open to reveal a second set of rooms. Besides a rotting arm the room was completely devoid of anything that might be considered alive, making LaCroix's ghoul wonder if it had previously belonged to the person she had found dead upstairs or possibly the man who had chewed off his arm to escape. The second cell however contained an older woman with dirty blonde hair that was tightly restrained by a straightjacket. She was writhing on the floor like some kind of worm in agony, and when she spotted Valeska she started screaming in gibberish. In between every handful of sentences a coherent phrase of words such as 'stop' or 'get them off' popped up, but all that did was make the ghoul feel even more guilty as she took a few pictures and shut the slot.

Moving on to yet another area with even more cells, the ghoul became aware of two rather unique sounds. The first resembled a slight muffling noise, as though someone had their mouth taped shut, while the other sound was the exact opposite in that someone was yelling profanities at the top of their lungs. Since the rooms appeared to have some sound proofing to them (probably to prevent vampire guests from hearing anything), it made sense to Valeska that she was only now being able to hear the screaming. However, it was only when she opened one of the door's slots did she discover how heavily the sound was actually being canceled, because the yelling patient's voice was amplified times three. As soon as the pacing person inside caught sight of Valeska, he rushed forward and screamed some unintelligible word at her. Instinctively the ghoul found herself stumbling backward, despite the fact that no part of the violent man's body besides his fingers could effectively fit through the small hole.

"LET ME OUT YOU BITCH!" he snarled furiously, "I'M NOT SICK!" Not bothering to risk taking even a single photo of the man, Valeska rushed forward and snapped shut the slot. This only caused Grout's patient to become even angrier, but seeing as how his noise level was back down to a lower level, LaCroix's ghoul couldn't care less how upset he was. The only thing she actually found herself concerned about, was how the man had not lost his voice yet out of the logic that normally followed someone who screamed on end for hours.

Walking over to the cell that she hoped was the last one, she noticed that this particular door's slot was already open, which was probably why she had even heard the muffling in addition to the loud screaming. Glancing inside the padded room, she observed a single man who was so skinny that he could have been called anorexic. He wore incredibly tight clothing that made him look even more like a skeleton, and his head was completely bald, though it was unknown whether this was because it was purposefully kept shaven or if he really had no hair; Valeska assumed the former due to a few fresh scars she spotted on his cranium. Finally, she was able to understand what was causing the strange muffling sound, as the man who was apparently praying to his ceiling, wore a tightly bound locking mechanism on his face that wrapped around to lock at the back of his head.

A few more snapshots and Valeska was ready to return to her boss, or at least she thought she was until she spotted a second pair of wooden double doors that she simply couldn't resist opening. When she did, she entered an area that looked completely different than the rest of the estate. The concrete walls were entirely blank except for a few dim red lights jutting out of them, while the dirt ground was scattered with garbage, torn papers, broken wooden boards and empty pill bottles. The lighting was as poor as it had been upstairs, but unlike before, the ghoul had the sneaking suspicion that she was being watched. She wanted to turn back and forget the nearly pitch black room, but something made her want to push forward. She wasn't quite sure whether this was because of intuition, curiosity, or just plain stupidity, but her desire to explore the area overrode any concern for her personal safety.

Slowly making her way deeper and deeper into the room, she put her hand on a nearby pillar for support in case she accidently tripped. However, as soon as her fingertips touched the concrete pillar, she felt something wet and sticky. Pulling her hand back, she rubbed her fingers together and brought them to her nose in order to get whiff of an unmistakable scent: fresh blood. Suddenly, the gentle humming of a lullaby could be heard, and while normally this might not have been very frightening, she was standing alone in the dark listening to a song that reminded her of the exact one her father had sung to her as a child. Every single one of Valeska's muscles tensed up, as she immediately put her back to the closest wall she could find in order to prevent from being snuck up on.

"Close your eyes, go to sleep, Mr. Sandman is waiting! Just to guide you on your way, with his basket full of dreams. And the moon, up on high, shines his light on your pillow. And the stars, in the sky will be twinkling for you," sang a man that sounded so close to her father's own voice, that it chilled her to her very bone.

"Dad?" she asked. It was a foolish thing to do, especially since she knew her father was dead, but the voice resemblance was beyond uncanny. Peering around the corner, she noticed there was a bit of faint light shining through a metal grate that had collapsed from the ceiling, but other than that there wasn't much for her to make out. Then she saw it, a pair of bright yellow eyes staring at her from out of the darkness. Within the blink of an eye, whatever it was that she was looking at lunged at her with such speed that Valeska barely had enough time to get out of its way. Yet it almost seemed like the person had predicted she would do this, as he quickly spun back around and moved in for a second attack.

Instantly Valeska fell into a defensive stance and readied herself for their imminent conflict, knowing that in addition to being incompetent at physical combat, she was already at a disadvantage due to her heels and tight dress. Had she the time, she would have removed her dangling earrings and kicked off her shoes, but since her opponent had no intentions of allowing her to do this, she had no choice but to play the cards she had been dealt with.

Like a wild animal, the man whose general appearance was still disguised by the poor lighting, flew at Valeska from several feet away and grabbed her down by one of her legs. Kicking with as much strength she could muster, she felt her foot come into contact with some part of her attacker's body as he let out a painful yowl. Hurriedly scrambling away from her opponent and losing one of her shoes in the process, she stood back up and moved to grasp the mysterious man by one of his arms in order to put him in a lock. Even with her tunnel vision that had been brought on by her pumping adrenaline, LaCroix's ghoul was still able to clearly see that where her foe should have had an arm, there was nothing but a gnawed stump. Being temporarily frightened and surprised by this fact, allowed her opponent to regain the upper hand as he clawed at Valeska's left shoulder with his one good hand. A sharp stinging sensation erupted from her upper arm, as she took a few steps backward and covered her wound with her hand. Judging by what she could feel, her arm was bleeding rather heavily, and though she probably wasn't in too much danger, it was probably a good idea to keep pressure on it.

Her shadowed attacker didn't seem to agree with this thought though, because he moved back into position to hit her again. Bringing her arms up to shield her face and abdomen, she felt two more gashes inflicted on her skin, though fortunately these ones didn't feel as deep. Knowing that she was going to wind up being nothing more than a heap of slashed ribbons if she didn't unleash a series of counterattacks soon, LaCroix's ghoul swung her fists blindly forward hoping that she might hit the man. She got a few lucky hits in, but her opponent was simply too fast in that he seemed to be dodging nearly all of her punches.

Unexpectedly, her foe's arm shot out in order to slam her into a nearby wall by her hair that had come loose from its bun. Fortunately she managed to shield her face for the most part, though she still tasted a bit of iron in her mouth from her lip that had been split open. Due to the substantial force her opponent seemed to yield, she had no hope attempting to pry loose the fingers tangled in her hair, so instead she stomped hard on his foot with her heel. This did manage to free Valeska from an experience that felt like being scalped, but it also threw her completely off balance. Since she was only wearing one shoe, the poor dainty heel found itself unable to support all of her weight, and so consequentially it snapped from underneath her. Knowing that she had nowhere to go but down now, she clenched her teeth to prevent from biting her tongue as she landed roughly on the ground. Being sprawled out on the floor, LaCroix's ghoul had just enough time to roll out of the way from a solid looking kick directed right at her kidneys, but as soon as she thought she was out of harm's way her attacker was on her. Right as he managed to get his arm around her neck, Valeska panicked with the fear that he might break it or even outright suffocate her.

"What do you want?!" Valeska shouted in an attempt to reason with her attacker. Not really expecting it to work, she was shocked to feel his grip around her loosen. She was breathing so hard with lungs that burned, that she almost missed her attacker's whispered words.

"What else would this one seek?" he hissed. "Freedom from the faces and peace from the pain!" Seeing that she now had the opportunity to talk down her opponent, the ghoul grasped desperately at all the evidence she had acquired so far in Grout's mansion that might help her in this situation. She thought of the torturous methods the Malkavian Primogen had unleashed on his patients, the poor souls she had seen locked away in their padded cells, and of course all the recordings she had encountered. Suddenly she was reminded of one recording in particular that had the doctor voicing his annoyance over the patient that had gnawed off his own arm to escape. Without a doubt, this man had to be him, but if only she could recall his name.

"Look I'm here to help, just release me and we can talk about this," Valeska offered, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice.

"That's what _he_ said. With comforting crystal jade orbs, the deranged doctor promised this one that upon closed eyes he would find peace. That no longer would the recollections of another haunt this one's consciousness. He LIED!" the man shouted angrily tightening his grip again, "All this one was granted was sharp spider bites from metal sticks and being forced to drink the red water that flowed from the deranged doctor's wrist. First brings the thirst, next brings side effects, and then…then the pain starts all over again." Translating the crazed man's words was already difficult enough without having to worry about her own safety, but luckily Valeska was more or less able to make out that he was talking about how he was experimented on and then made into a ghoul.

"I can't promise to make the voices stop, but I can try to get you out of here, John," Valeska reassured in between gasps for air. Probably because she had been lucky enough to recall the ghoul's name from Grout's recording, she was instantly released from her attacker's hold. While taking in a few deep appreciative breaths, LaCroix's ghoul managed to turn around and stand back up in order to get her first real glimpse of John.

Dressed in a torn pale blue hospital gown that had dried blood on the front of it, Valeska observed that John had chocolate colored skin, and long black hair that had half of it tied in thin dreadlocks. On his face were yellow eyes that glowed slightly, along with a bleeding split lip and a cheek that was swelling up quickly probably because of her previous blind punches. Every second was dedicated to nervously scratching at the empty area where his arm used to be, and though it was hard to tell because the sleeve of John's clothing currently covered most of his arm's stump, it looked as though he might have cauterized it to prevent himself from bleeding to death after amputation.

"You…you know this one's name? You know John's name so you must know John's memories!" the ghoul exclaimed excitedly with a gaped tooth grin.

"Uhm, not exactly, John. I don't really know anything about you, other than you've been wrongfully imprisoned, enslaved, and tortured," Valeska revealed, keeping her guard up in case he got violent again. Her adrenaline was slowly starting to die down, which regrettably was causing her to fully feel every area of her body that had been hit or clawed.

"Oh…John thought that the sweet pea might have been like this one, knowing things that couldn't be known, and seeing things that weren't there," John said sadly, scratching profusely at an arm that no longer existed.

"Why…why did you call me sweet pea?" Valeska asked with a bit of unease. The only person who had ever addressed her by that nickname had been her father, but no one had been privy to that information, not even her grandmother. In fact, combined with the lullaby he had sung earlier, it made her wonder if he hadn't somehow known her father at one point.

"John sees much about the motherless sweet pea. How lonely she was at school with no playmates to call her own, how bloody father left her to the wrinkled one and how she now belongs to the crowned monarch who commands the ants from his city in the sky. Oh yes, this one is cursed to see all," he hurriedly babbled.

"I do unfortunately work for Prince LaCroix, but that doesn't mean I belong to him," Valeska pointed out as she put pressure on the still bleeding gash located on her upper arm. She should have been more unnerved that John apparently knew so much about her, but once again she had to remind herself that Malkavians had superior insight that rivaled even the most talented of psychics. No wonder LaCroix had voiced his opinion on preferring to avoid them, because keeping secrets from a clan of individuals with enhanced perceptive abilities was probably no easy task (if it was even possible).

"Why does the sweet pea spin such webbed tales of deception? Your soul belongs to the crowned monarch as much as mine belongs to the deranged doctor, and you will never be free of him until the dusty day you turn to ash," John explained. "The dark waters that churn in your veins is what makes this so."

"Look, just because I have my boss's blood inside of me doesn't make it so I'm going to be working for him until I die," she argued with a bit more hostility in her voice than she had intended. "In fact, I'm going to be terminating my contract with him after tonight." It probably would have been a bit more beneficial to her health to be polite to John, but his words were more truthful than she would have liked to admit which is what had resulted in her being so defensive.

"It's not his red water that makes you his, it's yours," Grout's ghoul stated plainly while pointing a finger in her direction.

"That makes absolutely no sense," Valeska said, feeling very confused, "How does my blood make me LaCroix's slave?" She had hoped she might interrogate him for possible evidence of Grout's treason or even convince him to testify against his master, but since he appeared to have information on her, that was decidedly much more important to acquire in this situation.

"His crimson liquid is the gentle breeze that sways the thoughts contained within your vessel, but _your_ red waters hold a flavor that brews a violent storm in the mind of whoever tastes it," he illuminated, "The crowned monarch's obsession with you is what will chain you to him for all of eternity."

"What do you mean? What's so different about my blood?" LaCroix's ghoul demanded as she was at wit's end with her curiosity. When she really thought about how she had come to have her current job, the details surrounding the night she had been employed were a bit suspicious. She had begged the Prince to spare her life by offering her everything that she might be able to do for him, but only when she had given him her blood had he actually become interested in hiring her. In fact, the Ventrue vampire had actually admitted to her blood being of a high caliber, but she had assumed it was because it had satisfied his picky palate rather than it having special properties.

"Decadent flavored illusions of ancient remembrances play out in your master's mind, making you a tempting meal," John answered.

"So I apparently taste good and I…make people remember stuff. Okay, that's weird but _why_?" Valeska questioned, hoping she was interpreting the ghoul's words correctly. How happy she was going to be once she quit her job, for that would pretty much make it so she would never have to communicate with a Malkavian ever again. When she was in the mood, riddles and puzzles were highly entertaining for her to solve. However, having to constantly stay on her toes in order to analyze every word that was being said in a conversation was both tedious and incredibly annoying.

"This one sees much, but John can only uncover the hidden spaces of sweet pea's consciousness. If you don't know, then this one cannot either," he responded with a shrug that looked odd being done with only one arm.

"Well I didn't know about my blood being different, so how did you?" she asked, feeling confused again as things simply weren't adding up.

"John…John doesn't know," Grout's ghoul replied slowly. "The voices whisper their knowledge to this one, but they cannot be commanded to reveal the source of their secrets."

"That…kind of makes sense I guess," LaCroix's ghoul admitted with an exasperated sigh. "Madness isn't really supposed to play by the rules anyway. Are you sure the voices can't tell you anything else?"

"This one is certain, and they apologize for not being helpful," John answered with a bit of sadness. It was strange that he would even care, seeing as how he had almost killed her moments ago, but he seemed genuine with his sympathy so she couldn't really ask for much more than that. "Oh, and before sweet pea would ask, John cannot act against his master. The deranged doctor's red waters thwart any thoughts of betrayal."

"But you could stop Aleister Grout for good! You already escaped from him at great cost to your own body, so why let that happen to other innocent people?" Valeska demanded, trying to convince the ghoul to act against Grout. "I mean, don't you want to leave this place?"

"John cannot pass through the invisible barrier that keeps him here. This is where he must remain, for without the red water that he steals, he will parish," Grout's ghoul explained.

"That's not true at all. You were strong enough to bite off your very own arm to escape his fucked up experiments, so you're more than strong enough to leave this place forever and put that bastard away for good!" She paused for a second. "Come on John, I believe in you!" She knew she was grasping at straws to persuade John to leave with her, but cheesy motivational speeches were all she could think to say.

"NO!" John screamed, taking Valeska by surprise as she took a step backwards. Falling to his knees, John began murmuring to himself as though he might be in a discussion with the voices in his head. "John cannot leave the prison that condemns him for his life's sins! Now you will be silent or the voices will force this one to silence the sweet pea forever!"

"Okay, okay! Just relax, alright? I'm not going hurt you, nor am I going to force you to do anything you don't want to," she hurriedly reassured as the ghoul looked up at her with sorrow filled eyes.

"Sweet pea must understand…this is John's punishment. He must remain here for always and forever," he whispered sadly. Valeska simply nodded, feeling a great deal of pity for the man who had probably been brainwashed into thinking he deserved the pitiful life he now lead.

"I understand. Would…would you…" Valeska stammered, trying to word her proposal in a way that wouldn't offend or frighten Grout's ghoul. "Would you like me to grant you the peace you've always wanted?" John's yellow eyes widened as he glanced around anxiously.

"Could John be allowed such a gift?" he whispered aloud. "To be granted a silence sought by this one for decades…it almost seems like a fantasy tale made real."

"You do understand what I mean by peace right?" Valeska asked, wanting to make sure that there was no confusion in what she offered.

"This one…John…," he began before pausing for a moment. "I do understand as do we all. Please, make my transition a swift one before I change my mind…or my mind changes me." Proud that Grout's ghoul had managed to stop himself from speaking in third person, Valeska nodded again as she positioned herself directly behind the ghoul who was at waist level when he was kneeling.

"It will only hurt for a moment," Valeska informed John softly as she mentally prepared herself for what she was about to do.

"After a lifetime of pain and torment, a brief dose of it will be nothing." Turning his head, John proceeded to stare up at his soon to be executioner with what was assumed to be tears in his eyes. "Thank you…"

Valeska said nothing as he returned to looking at the concrete wall in front of him. In one smooth movement, she placed her hands on both sides of his head, pulled him close to her so that she would have more control, and twisted his neck sharply to the left as a sickening cracking noise sounded through the air. Unlike it is often depicted in films, succeeding in the combat maneuver of breaking someone's neck was often no easy task since the opponent often resisted by locking up their neck muscles. Since John yearned for his death however, he provided absolutely no resistance, making it fairly simple to effectively end the man's life.

It was a bittersweet moment for LaCroix's ghoul, in that she knew she had released the man from a horrible existence, but at the same time she had still killed an innocent person she might have been able to help. Then again, he had seemed hell bent on remaining in Grout's mansion, and no matter how hard she had tried she hadn't been able to convince him to leave. Either way her mercy killing had been the best thing she could have morally done in the situation, but was it the most logical thing to do? Glancing down at John's body that had slumped to the ground, she realized that if the Malkavian Primogen came down to see one of his previous ghoul's lying on the ground dead with a broken neck, he might become suspicious. There wouldn't be much evidence to convict her, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Leaning over and ignoring the pain from her body, she grabbed the ghoul by his legs and proceeded to drag him to the other side of the room where she had seen the fallen grate. It surprised her at first that this task was so effortless, but she soon remembered that this was probably because her strength had been augmented with vampire blood. Looking up through the hole in the ceiling, she saw that there was a considerable distance between the ground she stood on and the upper floor above her. If she positioned John's body just right, then it wouldn't have been at all suspicious for someone to assume that he had fallen to his death while climbing down in the hole. After all, there were several thick wooden boards that someone could easily break their neck on in the process of falling.

After what seemed like several long and awkward moments of positioning a dead body, Valeska deemed the death scene as believable if it were to be viewed by an outsider. She had staged accidental deaths before, so this really wasn't anything new to her. The next step would be to make sure that there was no evidence to tie her to the crime, so she made sure to gather up both of her shoes along with her purse whose contents had fallen out at some point during her fight. Returning her belongings to her clutch along with the broken heel of her shoe, she took one final glance around the room before ultimately leaving, her purse in one hand and her shoes in the other.

It didn't take very long at all for her to retrace her steps back up to the ballroom, but then it hit her. She was covered in dirt and blood, with most of it belonging to herself since her slash marks were still oozing their crimson liquids. Her beautiful teal dress had been torn in several different areas, but it wasn't until she was standing in better lighting that was she able to see it. There was no way she was going to wait for the Prince looking the way she did, and not because she was embarrassed of what he might think, but because everyone else would be wondering just what the hell had happened to her in the bathroom.

Tiptoeing across the ballroom, she entered the foyer and then quietly slipped out of the mansion entirely. She knew that LaCroix's chauffeur had probably parked the Prince's vehicle somewhere outside Grout's estate, and after opening the doctor's exterior gate she was more than happy to see the handsome young man standing next to the black Rolls Royce.

"Excuse me, driver?" Valeska requested. She more limped than she did walk towards the wide eyed chauffeur, since her leg ached from when she had tripped earlier in her battle with John.

"W-what happened? Is the Prince alright?" he demanded anxiously as he rushed forward to help LaCroix's ghoul.

"He's fine, but what happened to me is a private matter," she answered while waving off his offered assistance; she had a few minor bumps, bruises, and cuts, but she wasn't dying after all. "Now I need you to go inside and wait for the Prince to leave the dining room. When he does, inform him as calmly as possible that I've come down with a case of food poisoning, and to avoid embarrassing him I decided to wait in the car. Okay?"

"Of course, ma'am, right away!" the driver said with a nod before rushing past her to enter Grout's mansion. Opening the vehicle's door, she slowly and carefully slid inside in order to avoid getting any blood on the Prince's leather seats as that would have no doubt upset him. Once she was in, she shut the door and leaned back against the comfortable chair. She was unbearably tired and her entire body ached with a pain that felt like…well like she had gotten the shit beat out of her. However she was grateful to be alive, and after a few days of recovery she would be right as rain. Closing her eyes, this thought comforted as she drifted off into a gentle sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So Valeska is a little worse for wear both physically and mentally, but I promise that she'll be ok. In VTMB we saw that Grout had a great number of ghouls wandering his mansion, but I decided that for my story I would only show a handful of them with distinct personality flaws and physical features. During my last play through of VTMB, I paid special attention to Grout's recordings for new ideas for my story. As soon as I heard about John, and even saw a dead body under that one grate, I knew I had to somehow implement his vague character into my story. Hopefully then, I succeeded at making him as interesting, mysterious, and sympathetic as the other characters in the game. I also hope that this chapter was all around a bit darker than my previous ones, so if you can, please share how you felt or thought about this change! Did you like it, did you not? If not, then why? I'm always looking to change things up again, so feel free to drop ideas too! Finally, I know that I said I would write a chapter through Grout's POV at some point, but when I really think about it there's not a whole lot for me to do. Therefore, unless my readers _really_ want to see a chapter through his POV, I will avoid writing one for now. Until next time!


	28. Emotional Motions

**Author's Note:** Ok first of all, I want to apologize to my fans for this chapter that was significantly delayed. I got sick yet again (a popular trend with my body sadly), I had to remodel a bedroom, and I had a trip half way across the state I had to take. Needless to say, all of the above plus more is what prevented me from finishing this chapter that mainly focuses on a lot of interaction between LaCroix and Valeska. Not much more to say other than that, enjoy!

**Special Thanks: **Thank you very much to Haruhana for faving my story and to Paranoidgirl for following it! I'm also very appreciative to the reviews of the last chapter who are Lucius's Mistress, MischievousEnigma, Topgallant, Sasha Naruto, aberdeenkev, Haruhana, and Wollerosekaufn. Your support is what keeps me going! =)

**Responses:** To Lucius's Mistress: Glad that you liked John, and look no further than this chapter to find out how LaCroix reacts to her disheveled appearance!

To MischievousEnigma: You have indeed reviewed before, but I'm happy to see you return as well as your love for my recent chapters. I'm always worried that my pacing is too slow, that my character portrayals are off, and that Valeska is uninteresting, but hearing that it is just right is awesome news indeed!

To Topgallant: I really liked the past chapter too, because writing in an action scene along with mystery and implied statements is always fun. In the beginning I had intended to make Valeska a bit colder personality wise, but decided that giving her some positive traits would make her more likeable as well as believable. After all, it's very rare for someone to be 100% evil or 100% good; everyone has conflict of some kind inside of them and I try to use that for every character. Same goes for her skill set, which I'm pleased to know is believable. Good job on solving part of the anagram by the way!

To Sasha Naruto: Glad to hear you approved of John, because quite a bit of thought went into his character. I look forward to your next review as Authoress!

To aberdeenkev: Indeed Val does want answers, but she won't get anything concrete until she meets with Maximillian Strauss again later on.

To Haruhana: Yay a new reviewer! Welcome to the chaos, and thank you for your review! I'm very pleased to hear that you consider this one of the greatest fanfics you've found and that I'm keeping everyone in character. There are quite a few very good stories on , and if you're looking for some good ones on VTMB you should check out the community dedicated to the game on this site! =)

To Wollerosekaufn: Two new reviewers in one chapter, this must be my lucky day! I'm glad to make your acquaintance, and am even happier to hear you love my story. I'll try not to delay the chapters as long as they have been lately as so not to keep you on edge too much. Enjoy the new chapter!

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**Chapter 27 Emotional Motions**

"Miss Latimer?" came a male voice. Valeska knew right away that the voice belonged to LaCroix, but she was much too comfortable snoozing in her seat to be bothered with opening her eyes. "Valeska!" The ghoul's eyes shot open, not only because it hurt like a bitch when the Prince had taken to shaking her roughly by her injured arm, but because he had addressed her by her first name with a tinge of unexpected panic in his voice.

"I'm awake, I'm awake…" she murmured groggily, as she sat up from her slouched position. Her head was pounding from where it had been slammed into the wall, and pressing in on it with her index finger revealed a small bump on her left temple. Her arms felt like they were on fire, her leg still ached horribly, and her mouth tasted of the dried blood from her split lip. Glancing out the window, she saw that the car had at some point been started up by the Prince's chauffer who was presumably headed to Venture Tower.

"Look at me, Valeska," LaCroix ordered. Doing as she was told, Valeska turned to her boss and saw a great deal of concern and perhaps even fear in his pale blue eyes that studied her own face carefully. It was so odd to see someone as influential as a Ventrue Prince displaying such emotions over a lowly ghoul, but here one was, sitting in front of her and doing that exact thing. Without warning he brought his pale wrist to his mouth and bit down hard with his fangs, leaving a few flecks of blood on his upper lip. Then, with the most serious expression he offered his wrist to Valeska, dripping with blood and all. "Drink before the wound closes."

"No thank you, sir," Valeska said, gently pushing away his icy hand, "I'll be fine."

"Did I ask whether or not you would be fine?" he demanded with narrowed eyes, "I don't believe I did, so again, I am ordering you to _drink_." Despite his outward anger, it seemed to be more based on the desire to help her rather than hurt or enslave her. It was an action that would be considered unbecoming of the personality she had grown used to dealing with over the past few weeks, but she appreciated the fact that he didn't seem to be trying to manipulate her for once.

"And I'm saying no," his ghoul argued defiantly, "I was careless tonight, and being cautious is a lesson I'm not going to learn unless I have glaring evidence to remind me of my painful mistakes. Besides, I don't want to have to rely on your blood every time I get in a mild scuffle." Her lie sounded believable even to her, and if she were lucky it might have even been enough to convince the Prince to back down. However, all it did was make him glare daggers in her direction.

"Admirable, but I refuse to sit idly by while my ghoul bleeds out all over my vehicle's leather upholstery," the Ventrue snapped.

"Damn it all…" Valeska exhaled with mild irritation, after seeing that the blood from one of her arms had trickled onto her seat. "I swear that was not my intention at all, sir. I was extremely careful in entering your car because I had wanted to prevent staining your seats in the first place. Looks like my efforts were in vain though…"

"I appreciate your apparent concern for my material possessions, but that was not the point I was attempting to make," the Ventrue vampire declared, before patting away the blood on his lips with his pocket square. She was desperately trying to remind herself that tonight would be the last night she would be in the Prince's employ, but the intrusive and highly unwanted thought of licking his lips clean of the crimson drops entered her mind anyway.

"Then what point were you trying to make, sir?" the ghoul challenged, trying to keep her eyes off his lips. Her statement was a dangerous thing to say to someone who she was supposed to be trying to keep happy, but she honestly had no clue as to what he was insinuating.

"That you're being an extraordinarily foolish woman by negating an offer of assistance, and then blatantly lying about your reasoning for doing so," her boss retorted calmly, staring directly into her eyes. Valeska had to resist on letting out an exasperated sigh, because she was so certain she had succeeded in misleading him earlier. It would seem that no matter who she had managed to deceive in her past though, the two hundred year old vampire sitting next to her was not an easy opponent to contend in verbal battle with.

"Fine, so I'm a foolish woman! What else do you want from me?" she exclaimed, averting her gaze from his that never seemed to falter. She swore that those damn eyes of his could probably stare a hole in a solid brick wall if he chose to do so.

"I want to know what happened in Grout's mansion, and why your behavior is so skittish regarding my blood," LaCroix answered, "But more importantly, I have no wish to see you suffer in unremitting physical pain from a task that I specifically commanded you to complete." Surprised by how genuine his words actually sounded, she looked back up to see a facial expression that appeared just as sympathetic. She absolutely despised herself for considering it, but part of her somehow believed that he wasn't trying to manipulate her at all. Of course this was a ridiculous contemplation that ran through her mind, and all she could do was try to convince herself that it was only his blood that made her feel the way she did. Yet at the same time even this notion seemed implausible, and she found herself stuck between two ideas that she believed and disbelieved in equally. Oh what she wouldn't have given to have someone bash her head repeatedly into a concrete wall right then and there.

"Why do you even care about what happens to me anyway? It's not like I'm dying or anything, I've just got a few bumps and bruises for god's sakes," Valeska muttered, trying not to wince as she shifted her legs in order to get more comfortable. At the same time she was attempting to remain as polite as possible, but unfortunately she was still coming across as unintentionally hostile.

"Miss Latimer, despite your current attitude I am going to do something that I normally don't do for my employees: I'm going to offer you a choice of whether or not you will allow me to heal your wounds," the pale Prince offered, still staring her down with eyes she would have loved to gauge out.

"What? Why?" Valeska questioned with bewilderment and suspicion as she attempted to read LaCroix's blank expression. At this point she wasn't sure if her boss was giving her an actual choice, or if he was just giving her the illusion of one. Naturally she hoped it was the former, but one could never tell with someone as untrustworthy as the Prince of LA.

"Well, I'm not typically one to carelessly place faith in vague suppositions, but simply put, I believe you may have encountered something in the Primogen's estate that has put you off entirely from partaking of vampire vitae," he explained casually. "Or am I wrong in this assumption?" Valeska had hoped she might be quicker in responding to his query, but due to the fog of exhaustion that polluted her mind, she found herself remaining silent for a moment longer than intended. "Hm, just as I expected then."

"Now wait just a minute!" the ghoul began, annoyed by the smug satisfaction her boss currently wore on his face. "Ever since you hired me, I wasn't too keen on the consumption of vampire blood. The entire idea makes me sick to my stomach, and I'm pretty sure I made that perfectly clear to you when you first ordered me to drink your blood."

"That may be, but it remains quite an unusual statement to be heard coming from a ghoul nevertheless," the Ventrue vampire pointed out. The pair was silent for a moment, as LaCroix glanced thoughtfully out his window. "If you wish to remain in the great deal of pain that you appear to be in, then that is your choice. However, know that I do not offer my Ventrue blood to others lightly or very often for that matter either."

Valeska didn't even have to look into her boss's eyes to know that he was trying to manipulate her. His concern for her health had seemingly vanished almost entirely, but perhaps this was because she had been well enough to hold her own against his demands. Now he was trying to make it seem like his "quality" blood was oh so special, and that offering it to her was a generous or once in a life time opportunity. It wasn't that she was unappreciative, but while his actions may have been motivated by kindness before, it was obvious he was currently more interested in succeeding in the hidden motive of controlling her. Additionally, it almost seemed that behind his words was the subtle promise that if she turned him down now, then he would not assist her in the future should she really need it. Not that this really mattered anyway, seeing as how she would be done with this job after tonight.

"I appreciate your generous offer, but I'll have to decline," she said, placing emphasis on a few select words in order to please her boss. He didn't seem too happy about her decision, but neither did he explode in a fit of rage because of it. Instead he simply let out a sigh of what seemed like disappointment as he turned away from her entirely.

"So be it then. We shall be arriving at Venture Tower shortly, but you will have to enter through the building's back entrance. As a Prince I can't tolerate a grungy employee being openly seen by the public that so does love to use any piece of adverse evidence against me that they can acquire," LaCroix informed his ghoul, making her feel oddly guilty. "There are no stairs leading up to the penthouse, but I'm certain you have no issue with taking the elevator…right?"

The ghoul shot an anxious glance at her boss to see the small smirk he wore on his moonlit face. There was no doubt in her mind that he was taunting her, and it made her realize that even though she had been offered a choice, there were consequences to her decision. In this case it was insulting Valeska and placing her in a situation that would make her feel highly uncomfortable. As upsetting as this was to deal with, what was truly unsettling at that moment was that he had knowledge of a phobia that she had yet to share with anyone in her new life besides Mercurio. Considering that she could more or less handle her phobias, it wasn't that big of a deal that the Prince knew about this weakness of hers. Still, if Mercurio really had been the one to tell LaCroix about her fears, it made her wonder what else he might have divulged. She didn't really want to believe that her only friend would betray her, but when she ruled out every improbable cause, he was the only one left that she could point the finger at.

"Not at all, _sir_," the ghoul commented coolly. From the corner of her eye she noticed the Prince raise an eyebrow at her statement.

"Is there a reason you're throwing sass in my direction, Miss Latimer?" her boss requested. Was he serious or just stupid? She would never outright ask the Prince that question, but if he truly had no idea why she was upset, then perhaps she was wrong in assuming he had a high level of intelligence. More than likely her boss was immaturely toying with his ghoul in order to provoke or annoy her, but the worst part about that was that it was working. Knowing that blowing up in his face wouldn't solve anything, Valeska simply bit back a witty response and thought up a quick lie.

"No, sir. I was just curious as to how you knew about my elevator phobia," Valeska answered, hoping she might be able to fish for some information. "It's not something that I trust many people with, so if I may ask, how did you know?"

"I didn't until now," the pale Prince responded with a smile he could barely restrain. "I had presumed that because your heart rate is elevated whenever you exit an elevator, then the only cause would be that they make you uneasy. Thank you for making this theory of mine concrete." Valeska clenched her fists in slight annoyance at his conceited words, but she relaxed them immediately in an attempt to control her anger. There was one good thing that came from her rage though, and that was that it was temporarily canceling out the physical pain she was experiencing. Before the pain had been just enough to make her want to drink LaCroix's blood just to stop her aching soreness, but luckily logic had kicked in just in time to stop her from making a decision she would regret. Besides being angry she also felt rather stupid for accidently confirming the Prince's suspicions of her phobia, but at least she knew now that Mercurio wasn't to be blamed for his knowledge.

"You can actually hear my heartbeat?" she asked in partial disbelief. She knew vampire hearing was very good, but just the thought of her boss being aware of when her pulse levels was enough to put her heart into overdrive due to her nerves.

"Why of course, Miss Latimer. I make it a healthy habit to keep an eye on my human employee's vital signs, as it makes it substantially easier to tell when I'm being deceived," her boss implied, tilting his head slightly. Valeska hadn't realized that such a seemingly self-centered individual would be so attentive to those around him, but it was an impressive and unexpected feat nonetheless. It also allowed her to make sense of why he could always tell when she was being dishonest, because the man was practically a living, breathing lie detector…so to speak.

"Oh, well I can see the logic behind that," Valeska confessed, trying to sound oblivious of his indirect accusations, "So how can you tell when vampires are lying to you?"

"A combination of trustworthy sources of information and years of practice," the Ventrue vampire replied, "Now if your curiosity is sated, and you are finished with your endless inquiries, I am still waiting to hear what evidence, if any, that you found to implicate Aleister Grout."

"Uhm, right, about that…" she slowly began before completely freezing up. He didn't seem to be in the best of moods, but no matter how she looked at it, she didn't really have any other choice than to tell her boss that she hadn't found anything other than blackmail.

"Well?" LaCroix impatiently demanded, drumming his fingers lightly on his armrest. Valeska took a deep breath and simply let the words tumble from her mouth.

"I regret to inform you, that I found nothing substantially incriminating in Grout's mansion," she reported before quickly continuing so that she would not be interrupted. "But I did find some possible blackmail that you might find useful!"

"Which is?" he asked, sighing with minor irritation in his voice. For something so important, he certainly seemed to care very little about what she was saying, but maybe that was simply due to his overabundance of arrogance.

"Well, I started my search upstairs, but found nothing more than a few recordings about him missing insane asylums and what he had accomplished so far on his treatment of the vampire condition," the ghoul clarified.

"A cure for vampirism? You must be joking," the pale Prince scoffed, "Only a Malkavian psychiatrist would think of something so ridiculously insurmountable. How amusing though that an individual who was educated on obtaining a PhD to better the human mind, would choose to devote his time in struggling to understand the biological side of life."

"Actually sir, it's a common mistake, but psychiatrists usually have an MD or medical degree rather than psychologists who have a PhD. This means that psychiatrists can prescribe medical prescriptions because they're meant to understand how the human body functions and how medications interact with it," Valeska corrected, "Aleister Grout probably has a higher understanding of biology than most people would be lead to believe or even give him credit for."

The Prince just stared at his ghoul with an expression that looked torn between angrily snapping at her, and wondering how she even knew so much about the two professions. Instead he just remained silent and scowled at her as though she had overstepped some invisible boundary by rectifying his previous statement. Clearing her throat, Valeska decided to change the topic back to her findings.

"So uhm anyway…there really wasn't too much upstairs, so I snuck down to what must have been the doctor's basement at some point," she continued, "It turns out he literally has his very own insane asylum down there, complete with about a dozen suffering ghouls that I got tons of pictures of. There were a pair of red headed twins that were acting more like dogs, some kid that couldn't have been older than sixteen drawing in his own blood, a bald gu-".

"Miss Latimer, did you not just state that you obtained pictures of the individuals you saw? Certainly there is no need to waste my valuable time by elucidating every single detail of your task," her boss interrupted while Valeska blinked a few times.

"Yes, sir," she acknowledged, trying not to be too annoyed with her superior's lack of manners. She should have been used to this with him by now, but apparently that wasn't the case. "I acquired the chance to go through some of his medical notes, which I also got pictures of, and one book in particular depicted all of his research on the vampire condition so far. For his experiments he's been using his ghoul patients, though as of late his mental state has deteriorated to the point where he is just flat out torturing them for his own amusement. I can only assume these tests often result in death too, seeing as how I ran into a body being eaten by rats."

"Disgusting and unfortunate," the Ventrue vampire stated nonchalantly, with his head resting in one of his hands, "Anything else?"

"Uhm…not really. Just grim experiments, dead bodies, a lot of blood, and a crazy ghoul that as you can see did quite the number on me," Valeska responded.

"I shall have to go over the photos you've obtained, but as of right now your information is entirely useless," Prince LA sighed, sounding disappointed.

"Wait, what?" the ghoul questioned, feeling slightly offended and also confused. "I know I didn't find any evidence to condemn Grout, but surely the material I have is enough to execute him or at least put him away for good…right?"

"Camarilla law primarily focuses around the concealment of our true natures, so no, not really," LaCroix replied, the tone of irritation returning to his voice.

"But sir, the things I saw there were absolutely horrifying and beyond inhumane. I consider myself to be relatively detached from things like that, but when I heard and saw that one of the patients literally gnawed off his own arm to escape, I knew deep in my heart that Grout needed to be stopped no matter what," she explained, hoping that her words might motivate the Prince to do something. Instead he simply sat there, completely silent while he continued to stare out his window. "You're the Prince aren't you? Isn't there anything you can do?" At this, LaCroix's head practically snapped in her direction with a rage filled expression.

"Human law is _not_ like vampire law, Miss Latimer," the pale Prince sneered angrily, "He has not violated the Masquerade seeing as how he is incredibly cautious with the individuals he uses for his experiments, he has not sired a progeny without permission of the city's Prince, and he has not destroyed any of his own kind when a blood hunt has not been issued! Therefore, nightmarish experimentations or not, as LA's Prince I cannot act against him when I have no solid evidence of his treason against the Camarilla. Or perhaps you have already forgotten the ancient traditions by which this organization continues to thrive and survive by in modern times?"

"No, sir, I-" Valeska began in an attempt to defend herself. She had seen the Prince angry before, but she was still very surprised by the amount of fury in which he addressed her in. It made her wonder just what it was that she had said that had set him off.

"Furthermore, I would very much so appreciate if you never questioned my authority in the future again," he interjected, continuing his rant, "Failure to do so may result in your permanent termination, so I urge you to keep this in mind."

"But I wasn't questioni-," the ghoul started, once again hoping she might be able to get a few words in edge wise. Sadly this was simply not meant to be.

"Do NOT attempt to elicit an argument with me by challenging my previous statement, _ghoul_!" her boss shouted furiously, as he resorted to using her current nature as an insult. Right as it looked like he might start up again with more yelling and insults, Valeska nodded quickly to show her submission. Thank goodness this caused the Prince to ultimately go back to staring out of his window, because she wasn't sure if her developing headache could tolerate any more shouting.

Looking out of her respective window, all the ghoul could feel was sadness. Some of this misery was because she had just been insulted, that she hadn't been able to successfully complete her assigned job, and because she was still aching physically from some of her wounds. Most of it however, was sadly due to LaCroix being so emotionally dissatisfied at the lack of evidence against Grout. Understandably this was why he had reacted so violently against her, and though they both knew that the Malkavian was probably plotting something against the Prince, there was absolutely nothing Valeska could do to prove this in order to please her boss.

She knew without a doubt that these feelings stemmed from LaCroix's blood, but this thought just made her want to flee back to her own safe haven even more than she already did. This desire was almost strong enough to make her want to avoid quitting her job all together, but she had to see this night through no matter what. If she didn't, her delay would give the Prince ample opportunity to manipulate her into staying by his side. Her emotions were already fragile enough with what she had been made to witness over the past few weeks, but tonight specifically had placed her on edge. Even if she weren't in the process of being bound to her boss by blood, this life simply wasn't for her.

At some point during her unorganized mental ramblings, the pair finally arrived at Venture Tower. Not even bothering to wait for his driver to open his door, Prince LA immediately exited the vehicle and stormed up the front steps of his building. All Valeska could think, was that she felt bad for whoever was on duty at the lobby desk tonight. A few minutes later, the chauffer had pulled into a dark alley next to the towering building, so that both Valeska and the Sheriff could enter through a hidden back entrance. Despite her obsession of entering the tower when she had been a mere human and not a ghoul, she had no idea that the door she walked through had even existed. In fact, she felt partially ashamed that she hadn't found it on her outside exploration of the building. Not that any of this really mattered anyhow, seeing as how secret entrances were meant to be well hidden and that she had already succeeded in her goal of entering Venture Tower (even if her first impression had been a negative one).

As Valeska followed the Sheriff down a dimly lit hallway, she was directed to probably the smallest elevator she had ever seen. While she should have been more curious about how the towering bodyguard before her was going to get up to LaCroix's penthouse, she was much more concerned on how she was going to survive the panic attack she was facing. As expected, right when she stepped into the claustrophobic box and the doors closed, her breathing became frantic while her heart took to beating wildly. The trip was short, but it felt like a lifetime for someone who was trying to remain in control of their body. Luckily her past experience of knowing to close her eyes and focus on happy thoughts helped her greatly, even if those thoughts seemed to inappropriately center on sexual encounters with the same man who had placed her in this situation.

When she exited the elevator, she was a bit confused on where to go seeing as how she had never been in this section of the penthouse before. Fortunately she encountered LaCroix's secretary, Katrina, and after reassuring her that she was perfectly fine health wise, she was directed to her boss's main office. Upon entering the large room, she saw the Prince seated at his desk with his hands folded over one another. Standing silently behind him was his loyal Sheriff, which shocked Valeska with the speed at which he was able to get back to his master. Obviously he hadn't taken the elevator like she had, which meant he would have been forced to take the stairs. She had no clue as to which clan he belonged to, so she couldn't rule out the possibility of him having the Celerity discipline, or super speed as she liked to call it. Either way, all she knew for certain was that the ashen skinned giant unnerved her and served as another reason she would be joyful over after quitting her job.

"I took the liberty of assuming you would require a computer to upload your photos. It is a digital camera you possess, yes?" the Prince inquired. His attitude had done a complete 180, in that he was calm, even hopeful, as he acted as though nothing verbally vicious had just occurred between the two of them. Just as before when she had tripped and landed on top of him, it seemed that he was very good at focusing on his job while forgetting everything else that didn't matter.

"Yes, sir," Valeska acknowledged with a small nod, not wanting to say much more than what was absolutely necessary. She was directed over to the same sofa she had been sitting on when she had been forced to drink the Prince's blood, but this time around there was nothing but a sleek black laptop lying on it. Trying to ignore her memories of feeding from her boss's wrist which somehow always turned to the erotic, she picked up the laptop and sat down. After hooking up her camera, it only took a few short minutes of typing away at the computer's keys to upload all of her pictures and to deliver the device to LaCroix. It was then that she was forced to wait for what seemed like a very long and boring hour, as she had nothing to do but listen to the occasional clicking from the laptop while trying to ignore the Sheriff's unwavering blank stare.

"Any idea what this might be?" the pale Prince finally asked after quite some time. Standing up, Valeska crossed the distance of the room to look at whatever was on the screen that had been turned in her direction. On it was the anagram that she had solved, though if she told the Prince what it translated to, she had no idea how he would react. If she was lucky it might please him, but knowing how things had played out so far, it would more than likely result in more yelling. Still, it was better than nothing.

"Oh that. It's an anagram, sir," she replied, looking up into the Prince's eyes, "It translates to: Prince LaCroix lies, never trust him."

"And you only thought to tell me this now, rather than earlier, Miss Latimer?" her boss questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"It slipped my mind, sorry," the ghoul apologized, "And before you ask how I know it translates into that phrase, it's because I'm very good at puzzles and I do them fairly often." She was still trying to keep her words brief, not only because she didn't want to be snapped at again, but because she was so very tired, making it so she wanted to rush her resignation and leave the tower forever.

"Interesting, but unfortunately a mistrust of me is not enough to condemn the Malkavian Primogen," the Ventrue vampire stated, closing the laptop, "Nonetheless, you did quite well considering that you obtained all of this material and escaped mostly unscathed. I do wish that you wouldn't have been caught, but I suppose reality isn't as neat and organized as one would like."

"Do you mean by the ghoul that attacked me? John had already escaped and was living off the rats in the basement. He didn't really give me any other choice but to kill him, though I made sure to make it look like an accident. I doubt Grout will ever know anyone was there, so you can rest easy, sir" Valeska reassured.

"How may I ask, did you stage his death to appear as an accident?" the Prince enquired, leaning forward with interest.

"There was a hole in the ceiling that led up to the upper levels. I put his body under it, so it would look like he had fallen and broken his neck on one of the fallen grates," she replied with a shrug, "Simple."

"So it would seem…" he agreed slowly while rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Although I did not take you as being capable of murder, I can sense that you are being truthful. Despite the lack of evidence that I was hoping for, you've done far better than I anticipated and as such will be rewarded accordingly." Reaching into his desk he pulled out an envelope and slid it across his desk, allowing Valeska to pick it up and examine the contents. As expected, there was a large wad of hundred dollar bills, which immediately put a smile on the ghoul's face.

"Thank you, sir!" she happily exclaimed, placing the envelope in her purse as LaCroix simply nodded.

"Now, as your supervisor I am ordering you to return to your apartment and rest for a few days. When your wounds have sufficiently healed, you may return for your next task. Am I understood?" the pale Prince requested as Valeska merely nodded. "Very well, then if that will be all I shall have my chauffer personally escort you home."

"Thank you again, sir, but there is something that I needed to talk with you about," the ghoul informed her boss as her levels of anxiety steadily began to increase.

"Oh? Your heart rate just increased, so this should be interesting," her boss revealed, causing Valeska to bite her lower lip nervously. Thinking about how an event would play out was so much easier than actually participating in it, so naturally it was taking every bit of courage she had to get her next set of words out.

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**Author's Note: **So ya, sorry I had to cut this chapter short, but it's kind of a cliffhanger this way. The next chapter will be about Valeska quitting her job, or attempting to anyway. As I stated before, the Prince isn't going to let her go easily, so prepare yourself for more conflict between the two! I'm still deciding on how I want the plot to develop, but know that the main plot of VTMB will be approaching soon, along with a second meeting with Strauss which will ultimately reveal Valeska's true nature. Drop a review if you can, and as always, feel free to share any ideas if you have em'!


	29. Bad, Bad Blackmail

**Author's Note:** Alrighty, so this chapter is probably going to make a lot of people hate LaCroix more than they already do. As always I can't say much because I don't want to give away any details, but the man is just a flat out asshole here. To be honest it's not as bad as he could be, but there will only be a few more times in my story that he is as manipulative and cruel as he is here. In return we get to see Valeska behaving very impulsively, as by the end of the chapter she's decided on doing something rather foolish. A semi depressing chapter overall, but hopefully it will still be enjoyable!

**Special Thanks: **Thank you very much to Haruhana, Lucius's Mistress, Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, myobsidianbutterfly, and trace-selenium for their reviews of the last chapter!

**Responses: **To Haruhana: Unless I am placed in a position in which I am no longer capable of writing, you should have no fear of me stopping this story. I'm in this for good! =)

To Lucius's Mistress: Well I do love my cliffhangers! xD LaCroix is a douche, there is no other way to look at it, and this chapter just shows this side of his personality even more. In regards to his mood swings, I definitely agree that this should be a thing people refer to because it does sound like it fits. I do feel much better now, though now I am more concerned about your mom! I won't ask what happened to her since that's personal, but I do hope she gets well soon! =(

To Naruto Loves FemKyuubi: Hello again Sasha! I am feeling much better so no worries. I would agree that LaCroix did show a legitimate concern towards Valeska at first, but it quickly vanished when he realized what he was doing. I'm not entirely sure if Grout's actions violate the Masquerade though, since he's pretty careful with what he does. Val and LaCroix will argue in this chapter, but you might be surprised with how it ends.

To myobsidianbutterfly: I am doing much better now, thank you! As for LaCroix, he is quite terrifying isn't he? When he's good he's great, but when he's bad, holy shit is he an unpredictable person that you don't want to be around lol. I like making my readers think about the character's actions, because in this way they can formulate their own opinions on my story and where it's headed. This next chapter will make you feel even worse for Valeska unfortunately, but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless! *hugs*

To trace-selenium: You're very welcome for the review I dropped! I'm slowly but surely trying to be more active in the writing community, so don't be surprised if I share more feedback. You're right in that LaCroix is probably too impatient to be so wordy, but at the same time he seemed to talk a lot in the game. It made me think that this might have been because he was so self-centered and liked the sound of his voice. I'll try to cut back on how talkative he is, but it might be a little difficult since I've fallen into the habit of portraying him a certain way. Thank you for this constructive criticism though, I love hearing on how I can improve my writing! I also wanted to thank you for your compliments on my profile and the concern for my health; I am feeling a lot better now so no worries. ^_^ Ming Xiao will show up quite a few times, but I'm still pounding out the details for how she will fit into the story and what her past will be.

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**Chapter 28 Bad, Bad Blackmail **

"Well? I'm waiting, Miss Latimer," the pale Prince stated impatiently, causing Valeska to fidget slightly. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could go home to get some much needed sleep. Such an idea seemed so far out of reach though, especially when she knew the night might end with the Prince having her killed. Taking a deep breath, she did her best to look her boss straight in the eyes as she began to speak.

"I deeply appreciate every opportunity that you've offered me in the past few weeks, but I believe that I can no longer continue working for you, sir," Valeska hurriedly babbled out. "This job has altered my life to the point where I wholeheartedly believe that I will be dead in a year if I don't resign now." In her mind she had planned to sound a bit calmer as to appear as though she were in control of the situation, but who was she kidding? Standing in front of someone as intimidating as the Prince of LA made it damn near impossible for her to sound like anything more than a chattering chimpanzee, especially when he was studying her every move.

"So rather than bring these concerns to my attention, you have decided to violate the terms of our agreement instead?" LaCroix requested calmly, taking her by surprise. She had honestly expected him to explode in a fit of rage before ultimately throwing her across the room and breaking her neck in the process. Once again, it seemed that right when she thought she had her soon to be ex-boss pegged, he would turn around and do something completely unanticipated. Then again, it was highly probable that he had a card up his sleeve that he had yet to play. There was no need for him to get violent when he could simply manipulate her with words, as such was the Ventrue way. Knowing that the night probably wouldn't end with more blood should have comforted her, but currently she was too nervous about what he might do next.

"Well sorry, sir, but frankly you scare the living shit out of me," the ghoul revealed as her boss raised an eyebrow, "What I mean is, that you're not the most approachable person in the world. You're just…very intimidating."

"A statement I've heard more than once, Miss Latimer," the Ventrue vampire confirmed with a subtle smile. It was almost as if he was pleased in hearing that he could instill fear in others, which wasn't too shocking considering that he had been besides himself when speaking with the terrified Grout. "So, which is it then that has set you on your current path of resignation? Fear for your physical health or the fact that I intimidate you?" Honestly it was a bit of both, but her main reason for wanting to leave was the blood bond he had tricked her into. For her sake though, it might have been a bit wiser to remain silent about this.

"I've had intimidating managers before so that's not my reason for quitting, sir. Granted, none of them were vampires…but the point remains that I can usually work well enough with domineering personalities," she responded, "My main reason for quitting is the concern I have for my own life, though the irony behind this decision does not escape me. As was agreed upon when first I entered this job, my life is now forfeit. Should you actually choose to kill me…well that would really suck, but a deal is a deal." Hoping that her boss wasn't the blood thirsty monster she assumed he was, Valeska was surprised to hear her boss laugh softly.

"You are no use to me dead, Miss Latimer, but neither can I allow you to simply walk free when you've already proven yourself to be so capable," LaCroix concluded, staring her down like the predator he was. Valeska's fists clenched for the second time that evening, because once again her boss was lying straight to her face. He still thought she was oblivious to knowing about their blood bond, and there were so many things she wanted to say to let him know that this simply wasn't true. Logically she knew that revealing her new found knowledge would serve no other purpose than to prove that she wasn't a fool. At the same time though, not staying silent was just as foolish. Either way she was tired, irritated, and wanting to leave Venture Tower forever, so her train of thought wasn't exactly rational in any sense of the word.

"Being capable has nothing to do with it! We both know it's the flavor of my blood that saved my life that night, and you're so desperate to keep me here that you've forced me into a blood bond!" Valeska angrily declared as her boss's eyes widened slightly. "That's right, I know all about your little scheme to keep me under your influence. I saw more than enough in Grout's journal to confirm my suspicions, so if you want to know the real reason for my quitting it's because I'm sure as hell not going to remain your mindless slave." She wasn't sure where her confidence was coming from, but it felt good and it was allowing her to finally stand up to the Prince. It wasn't the smartest move she could have made though, but at least it would give her closure to some degree.

"And yet again, the Malkavian Primogen continues to serve as a thorn in my side," the Ventrue vampire sighed as he steadily rose from his desk, placed his arms behind his back, and went to stare out of his windows. "I had hoped you might come to comprehend this trial of mine without the outside help of Grout's secrets, but at any rate you were bound to figure it out eventually."

"Wait, are you _really_ trying to tell me that this was all a test?" Valeska sassed, her voice full of disbelief as her boss turned to face her.

"Why is that so difficult for you to believe, Miss Latimer? I require employees who can follow commands, but who are at the same time able to think for themselves. Unquestioning minions are fine to use as pawns on the battlefield, but they are completely incapable of uncovering details in an insidious plot or even knowing how to behave in a situation that calls for creative improvisation," he rationalized, "Clearly you are no pawn, since time and time again you have succeeded where countless others have failed. However, if I had informed you that I was putting you through a series of tests, the results would have been inclined to lean towards a more heavily influenced picture. Surely you can understand my reasoning." Valeska was flat out appalled at the amount of bullshit that she was being forced to listen to. There was no doubt that LaCroix was a highly skilled manipulator, but this was just insulting to her intelligence. In a way it reminded her of when she would occasionally correct some of her college instructors, only to be told that they were just testing their class to see who was paying attention. Just like then it pissed her off, but now she had an opportunity to do more than just grit her teeth in silent anger.

"Even if I did buy into what you're saying, which I don't by the way," the ghoul defiantly began with crossed arms, "You still lied to me."

"Whether you believe me or not is irrelevant, but I did just explain the justification behind my actions," her boss pointed out, "Besides, a leader cannot at all times be truthful, otherwise he risks the very foundation upon which he was brought to power." As he spoke, the Prince lifted one of his hands in a dramatic fashion which only served to make Valeska roll her eyes with irritation.

"A good leader is _always_ honest to those that follow him. In his community, he has the duty and responsibility of serving as a role model, but what kind of example does he set by lying straight to their faces?" Valeska questioned. Her words were a bit insincere seeing as how she herself lied quite often, but she wasn't the Prince of an entire city like he was. Whether she would be as two-faced and deceitful as he was if she were in his position was debatable, though such a thought didn't really concern her when she was too busy defending herself against her boss's nonsense.

"Are you certain that this belief of yours holds true in every possible situation that one may encounter?" the Prince requested coolly. It was amazing to think that he had yet to raise his voice at her in regards to her blatant insults, but he hadn't, and was instead still standing calmly in front of her with his arms behind his back. She wasn't sure which aspect of his personality was more intimidating, but at least when he was angry she more or less knew what to expect. When LaCroix was calm, he was unpredictable, dangerous, and highly observant as she had come to learn. It was like being around a lion that was just waiting for his chance to pounce at the first sign of weakness, or a mentally unstable individual who was always two steps away from a breakdown. Naturally this would place anyone on edge while at the same time causing them to question their principles for the sake of continued existence. His current statement in particular was a perfect example of how this slow acting and manipulative process worked.

"Well there are always exceptions to-" the ghoul started, a little unsure of whether or not she should be admitting this.

"Exactly, Miss Latimer. These same exceptions unfortunately motivate me to be more than a little dishonest from time to time, but I can guarantee you that they are for the benefit of those that serve under me," the Ventrue vampire reassured as his ghoul shot him an expression of skepticism. "Other times it's because I am given little choice in the matter. Take for instance the task you were set to complete this evening. Would you still have gone if I divulged all the known dangers you might have had the possibility of stumbling upon?"

"Yes!" Valeska exclaimed as her boss looked slightly taken back by her answer, "Because you're my superior and I would trust that you had enough faith in me to be able to handle those dangers. If not, you wouldn't be endangering my life by sending me into Grout's mansion without giving me the information I needed to prepare for them. Likewise, I trusted you when you said no ill effects would come from drinking your blood, but that turned out to be another goddamn lie! Now I can't think of a single reason to justify what you've done."

"I find it satirical that you choose to judge me on morals that you're more than lacking in yourself, Miss Latimer. All of our dealings thus far have demonstrated to me that you're frequently deceitful for no other purpose than because you can be," LaCroix retorted as he glared down his nose at her with crossed arms. Valeska shifted awkwardly, because she couldn't really deny this fact about her personality. She had always had a problem lying in her past, but that was just because it came so naturally to her. It didn't really excuse her actions though, so she wasn't really sure what to say in response to her boss's statement.

"Alright so we're both liars, but at least I can say I never said or did anything to directly hurt you," she reminded him.

"Enough," her boss ordered, "There is nothing to be gained by trying my patience, so I suggest you cease your petty name calling and aggressive insults."

"Fine!" Valeska snapped, "And I'll be just as happy to leave once you make a decision regarding my resignation." She agreed that the two of them were getting nowhere by arguing, but he was just as guilty as she was with throwing aggressive insults if not more so. Hell, barely an hour ago he had thrown a tantrum that rivaled the most spoiled of children.

"Hm. Well you seem reasonably determined to leave my service and though I could spend countless hours trying to convince you to stay, I believe it would be a waste of my time," the Prince speculated, "Therefore, allow me to cut to the chase by requesting if there is anything I can do to change your mind." Valeska blinked a few times as she contemplated how far he was actually willing to go in order to keep her by his side. It made her want to test him because it would be amusing to see a powerful Prince acting so desperate, but in the end it didn't really serve any useful purpose. She was here to quit her job, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

"No," the ghoul answered flatly.

"So be it then. I wish you well on whichever path that you choose to lead in your life, and I appreciate your honesty by informing me of your true reason for resigning," the Ventrue vampire acknowledged with a nod.

"Well I uhm… I just thought you should know the truth…" Valeska said slowly as she lowered her crossed arms in partial confusion. It was highly unusual that he was taking her resignation so well, and all she could continue to think was that there was something he had yet to reveal. Perhaps he was hoping on her blood addiction luring her back to his service, but she would sooner check herself into a rehabilitation center rather than come crawling back like an animal.

"Good evening, Miss Latimer," he said calmly, his face completely blank of any kind of emotion. Valeska opened her mouth to speak, but found herself incapable of doing so. In her mind saying goodbye has always been nothing more than a simple phrase of words, but currently this bittersweet moment was almost too much for her to bear. On one side she was finally going to be free from a man who clearly cared very little for her, and whose only desire was to make her a vitae bound ghoul. However on the other side she couldn't deny her illogical feelings for the Prince, and the possibility of never seeing him again pulled harshly at her heart strings. It was unbelievably frustrating to deal with, and the only thing she could think to do was to rush her farewell.

"Goodbye, sir," the ghoul hurriedly rushed before turning around to leave his office. As stupid as it sounded, part of her had hoped that her boss would have fought a bit harder to keep her in his employ. The fact that he didn't caused a large assortment of emotions to stir within her like disappointment and relief, but especially anxiety. Just like when she had turned down the Prince's blood in his car, there were probably unforeseen consequences yet to come. Would LaCroix signal a sniper squad to take her out the moment she stepped outside of Venture Tower? Or would he instead collaborate with the Sabbat to finish her off once and for all? More than likely he would make her life a living hell by blackmailing her to the best of his ability, but whatever it was that he planned to do, she knew it wouldn't be pretty.

"Oh, Miss Latimer?" her ex-boss requested. Turning around a little faster than she had planned, she saw the Prince still standing in the exact spot he was in before. "I feel rather foolish for not inquiring about this earlier, but I find myself curious…what is your proposed course of action for handling your grandmother's illness?" Valeska's heart literally felt like it had dropped into her stomach, while her breathing ceased entirely for what seemed like a lifetime.

"W-what…?" she stammered softly, not entirely sure if what she had heard was correct.

"Your grandmother, she suffers from a terminal illness does she not?" he asked again. Valeska stared blankly at LaCroix for a moment, incredibly disturbed by the fact that he somehow had knowledge of her life that she had not shared with anyone, not even Mercurio.

"How…how do you know about my grandmother?" she quietly enquired.

"I would be less concerned about how I hold information about your grandmother, and more concerned about what might happen to her should you choose to walk out those doors," the pale Prince urged as he pointed at the doors behind her. In his cold eyes was a hint of delight, and with the combination of his words she immediately understood what that hidden card was that she had been anxious he might play: he was going to use her grandmother against her. This was the exact reason why she had remained silent about her in the first place, because she _knew_ he would do this.

"You son of a bitch…!" Valeska screamed, anger coursing through her every vein. "I swear to god that if you lay even a single finger on her I'll -"

"You'll do what?" the Ventrue vampire taunted with a smirk, "There is nothing you can do, Miss Latimer, because you're completely powerless against me. If you haven't realized that by now, then perhaps you truly are more foolish than I was previously led to believe." As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. If he so chose, he could snap her like a twig or get his Sheriff to do it if he didn't want to bloody his hands. She had no desire to die, but it was better than being his slave which is exactly why she had taken the risk with quitting her job. Now though, it seemed like she might have no choice but to remain in his employ because there was no one else in the world that she cared for more than her grandmother. The events of tonight were literally going to play out the same way they had only weeks ago, but with only a minor twist if anything.

"So you're going to kill my grandma if I don't keep working for you?" the ghoul demanded furiously. "What the hell kind of monster does that?!"

"The kind of monster who knows how to get what he wants, exactly when he wants it," he replied before walking closer to her. This move put him within striking distance, and despite the fact that she knew attacking him would be pointless, she still couldn't stop herself from raising her fist in blind anger. As expected she didn't even come relatively close to making contact with any part of his body, for he immediately and easily blocked her swing before putting the same hand in a wrist lock. Valeska was already in enough pain as is from her previous attack, and though she was grateful she had only been placed in a lock, it still hurt nevertheless. She knew it would only hurt more if she struggled, but her adrenaline levels were through the roof and all she wanted to do was rend arrogant LaCroix's head from his shoulders. Apparently she wasn't seen as much of a threat though, because the Sheriff hadn't even bothered to take a single step forward to defend his master.

"Let me go!" she cried angrily, not caring if she broke her hand in her feeble attempt to free herself.

"I shall release you when you've settled down from…whatever it is you think you're accomplishing by attacking a centuries old vampire who has a formidable bodyguard and task force standing by at all times," LaCroix insulted, his tone sounded much like he was speaking to a child. All this did was make Valeska fight even harder, as the Prince sighed irritably and spoke again. "Now if you would permit me to finish my statement, Miss Latimer, I was just about to assure you that your grandmother's life is in no danger so long as you remain loyal in my service. In fact, to prove my good faith in terms of our revised contract, I plan to relocate her to the best nationally ranked hospital in Houston, Texas at the Anderson Cancer Center." Immediately the ghoul stopped struggling against his icy hold in order to look up into his light blue eyes with a great deal of confusion.

"Why…why would you do that?" she hesitatingly questioned. Just threatening her grandma's life would have been enough to keep her loyal, and surely LaCroix was skilled enough in manipulation tactics to know that. What then would be his motivation in doing something so seemingly considerate?

"To show my sincerity towards your only living family member, and to prove to you just how important I consider the role you play in the Camarilla to be," the pale Prince responded before releasing his ghoul. Valeska was still furious, but yet at the same time she was extremely appreciative of what actions her boss planned to take. After all, the primary reason for why she had even taken this job in the first place was to acquire additional funds to support her grandmother. That, plus her life was being threatened and self-preservation was key in being able to continue supporting her terminally ill guardian.

"Honestly I'm not even sure what to say or do right now," Valeska admitted, before taking a couple of steps backwards. She had no desire to be standing anywhere near LaCroix, let alone a mere few feet away from him. "No one has ever manipulated me so maliciously like you have before and yet at the same time no one has ever wanted to help me with my grandma either. The only reason you're probably doing this is to manipulate me further, but you know what? I don't care anymore; I completely and utterly give up on trying to fight against you because anytime I think I have the upper hand it turns out I'm wrong."

"A shame it took you so long to realize that, but I'm pleased to hear it nevertheless," the Ventrue vampire revealed, his face full of smug satisfaction that made Valeska want to lunge at him again. "Now I have many other matters to attend to, so do we have an arrangement or do we not?" Valeska was silent for a moment, but in the end, she knew she only had one choice she could make. The Prince had her backed into a corner yet again and though it was a depressing thing to admit, she should have known that she couldn't compete with someone like him. For now she would just agree to his demands and keep her head down while she formulated an escape plan.

"Keep my grandmother in the care of that hospital and I'll do whatever you ask of me," the ghoul decided quietly as she let her eyes fall to the ground in shame. "I just have one additional request."

"And what might that be?" he inquired before walking back towards his desk to sit back down.

"I don't want to have to drink your blood anymore," she replied, looking back up to see her boss wearing a blank expressionless mask.

"I apologize, Miss Latimer, but to ensure your loyalty as my ghoul, it is still necessitated that you partake of my vitae. However, seeing as how I've already attained what I wanted, I can limit this to say…once a month," her boss offered, "Does this sound reasonable?"

"Well I guess I don't really have a choice now do I?" Valeska asked.

"No, I suppose you really don't," LaCroix agreed as he reached into his desk and pulled out a small stapled set of papers. "Now, if we've finished with the negotiations process, I need you to sign this so that I may retire for the day." Cautiously the ghoul approached her boss's desk and glanced down at what appeared to be a neatly typed contract complete with specific terms of agreement.

"You had this typed up in advance?" she questioned in disbelief. If the terms had been vague it would have been more believable that her boss had predicted what she would do, but they weren't, and even went as far as to be specific in the amount of blood she would receive each month.

"Human behavior is often quite predictable, so yes, I did have it typed up in preparation of the events I anticipated would unfold tonight," the Prince affirmed with a bored expression as his ghoul shot him a dirty look. Even when LaCroix had viciously beaten his opponent, he was not above kicking them when they were down. After quickly yet carefully reading through the contract to be sure of no hidden details, Valeska picked up the accompanying pen, furiously scribbled her name on the dotted line, and then slammed the writing utensil down.

"Are we done here?" the ghoul demanded, feeling disgusted with herself for giving up so easily. There was nothing she could have done different, but she could have at least done a better job at disguising her anger and frustration when she spoke.

"I would ascertain that we are, Miss Latimer. Report back to me in two days' time or at the very moment that your wounds have healed," the Ventrue vampire commanded.

"I don't think I'm going to heal that quickly, sir," Valeska insisted, "I mean I heal fast, but I'm no Wolverine."

"You have vampire vitae coursing through your veins, Miss Latimer," he reminded his ghoul with a hint of irritation, "Or had you forgotten this little detail about being a ghoul?"

"Oh, right…" the ghoul murmured sheepishly, feeling even more stupid than she already did.

"Now I must ask that you leave my office. Katrina will show you the way back downstairs, where my chauffeur will be waiting to return you to your haven," her boss informed as he returned their written agreement back to its rightful place. It made Valeska wonder how many other contracts he had filed away within his desk, or if she was the only one he had bothered to establish such a deal with.

"Don't bother, I'll walk," the ghoul decided before turning on her heel and slamming the door behind her. She was just able to make out the usual pompous good evening from her boss, but she ignored this just as she ignored Katrina's request if she was alright or not. Her foul mood wasn't the secretary's fault, and in fact the poor Toreador probably had to put up with a lot more than the ghoul did. Still, this did little in preventing Valeska from forcefully pushing past the seemingly fashion obsessed vampire in order to enter the main elevator. Surprisingly enough, her anger was so intense that she not only felt no pain from her injuries, but her phobia of elevators affected her only mildly.

When she reached the lobby floor, the last she wanted to do was to run into the innocent and considerate security officer, Chunk, who was probably eating donuts at the front desk. He definitely didn't deserve to be snapped at, and as her boss had previously ordered, she was supposed to be concealing herself from any outside eyes. However, part of her desperately wanted to proudly walk out the front doors just so she could spite the conceited Ventrue upstairs. Seeing as how they had just agreed upon a very specific contract that had severe consequences if it were broken though, sacrificing her grandmother's life for something so petty was decidedly out of the question. Spotting a door off to her left, the ghoul quietly slipped into what seemed like a meeting room, only to eventually find an exit that led to the outside world.

Still unbelievably furious, Valeska took a few moments of deep breathing to calm herself down with what had just happened. The air sadly smelled of garbage and urine though, so it didn't really help her in the slightest. Glancing up at the sky she could see that in between a few of the buildings, there was a bit of brightness poking up from the horizon due to the soon to be rising sun. This signaled that it was probably around six am, and despite the obvious smog that polluted the atmosphere above her, this detail calmed her substantially. This was mostly because she knew that no vampire in their right mind would be patrolling the streets, which ultimately made her feel safer in traveling through some of the dark alleys the city had to offer. Sure she might get attacked by a bum desperate to make a quick buck in order to acquire some booze, but she could handle that easily even in her current state of dishevel. Besides, she was supposed to be hiding herself from the public anyway, not only because the Prince had ordered it, but because she didn't want anyone concerning themselves over her. Not that anyone really would in a city like LA anyway.

Feeling a bit better, the ghoul began on her journey back to her apartment. It was a bit difficult seeing as how she was still so tired, but luckily her jumbled thoughts were enough to keep her awake. One worry that never ceased in wanting to return to her already strained mind was that it was only a matter of time until her two-faced superior would turn his back on their deal. Right now it was her mysterious blood that kept her from being disposed of, but there was no way of knowing how long it would be until LaCroix grew bored of her. When he did, both her and her grandmother's lives would be at risk, and this possibility upset her more than she already was.

Around the time the ghoul hit the halfway mark on her trip home, she realized that her intense feelings of anger were only present to hide an even more annoying set of emotion: depression and hopelessness. Just like anyone, Valeska was prone to bouts of sadness every once in a while. Sometimes it was immediate due to some unfortunate event or memory, while other times it was a subtle thing that crept up and left her feeling worthless. Now however, it was because her identity had literally been reduced to nothing more than that of being the property of a vampire. It was an awful and horrible thing to comprehend, so it was unsurprising when she felt tears burning at the corners of her eyes. Wiping them away furiously, she found this did little in preventing herself from sobbing uncontrollably. Luckily there was no one around to see what she considered to be a moment of further weakness, but she still felt miserable.

Entering an area that was a bit more open, she spotted The Last Round from the corner of her eye. Seeing as how Valeska only drank alcohol on holidays or in the rare event she went out with friends, she knew very little about actual bars. This one was no different, in that she had no knowledge of the place other than she often saw young punks inhabiting the area because she lived so close to the place. Despite this intimidating aspect, the building practically looked like heaven on Earth to her, for she would have killed to have a drink at that point. Turning to booze when one was sad was never a wise decision though, and fortunately for her she knew the place was closed during the day for some reason. It would be ironic if this was because the place harbored vampires, but she doubted, or at least hoped that this wasn't the case. Either way, after she got some rest and spoke with her grandma, she would probably find herself in that hellhole by the end of the night.

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**Author's Note: **So like I said, we got to see a side to Valeska that might not have been anticipated. She's falling on hard times emotionally, and some of her decisions might not be the best for her to be making. The next chapter will either be through LaCroix's POV that will lead into the beginning of the plot of VTMB or Valeska's POV as she encounters some of the vampires at the Last Round. For now though, drop any ideas, compliments, criticisms, or anything else you wish to share and I shall respond to the best of my abilities. Until next time!


	30. Behind Enemy Lines

**Author's Note:** Alright so, I had a rather difficult time writing for the Anarchs. I'm not sure whether it will show or not (hopefully not), but if it does please let me know how I can improve. Anyway, this chapter is through Valeska's POV and it details her journey and some of her time spent at The Last Round, as well as phone call that formally introduces her grandmother to us. All of our favorite Anarchs of Downtown LA make an appearance, so please enjoy!

**Special Thanks: **Thank you to Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, myobsidianbutterfly, Lucius's Mistress, and aberdeenkev for their reviews of the last chapter. They are _always_ highly appreciated since in a way they keep me writing!

**Responses: **To Naruto Loves FemKyuubi: Actually, in one of my chapters I had it state that Grout took his ghouls off the street in order to help them. He was careful to make sure that no one would come looking for them as well. I do plan to have Patty make an appearance at some point, probably the next chapter so you'll be able to see that annoying ghoul in time. xD

To myobsidianbutterfly: Sexy French vampires do tend to cause emotional strife don't they? Valeska may or may not find complete peace at The Last Round, but she will find some minor form of it. =) This chapter actually is through her POV, but LaCroix will have his own chapter eventually.

To Lucius's Mistress: LaCroix has that habit of making you hate his guts, right before he does something generous. An example of this would be the fancy apartment he gives you if you do as he asks, but he remains the arrogant asshole he is anyway lol. I actually don't watch Glee, I just did research on which hospital was the best one at fighting cancer. I do hope things get better with your mom, having a sick relative is never fun. =( Finally, Nines will appear in this chapter and a few others too. Eventually I also plan for him to have his own POV chapter, so stay tuned! ^_^

To aberdeenkev: The Anarchs are unaware of who she is, but when they find out, I can assure you that they won't be too happy.

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**Chapter 29 Behind Enemy Lines**

Valeska woke up in her apartment with half her body hanging from her sofa bed, and the other half sprawled out awkwardly over the top of her blankets. For some this might have been call for concern, but the ghoul knew it was due to her restless day of sleep. Every time she managed to actually doze off, her sleeping mind would instantly become overrun with nightmarish images that resembled what she had been made to witness within Grout's mansion. Sometimes she dreamed of the Malkavian's tortured ghouls, while other times it was she instead who was wearing a straightjacket locked inside a padded cell. Experiencing the feeling of being tightly restricted inside a prison was enough to make anyone nervous, but it was nothing compared to when the eerie shadow figure would eventually approach her cell. It was obvious that the being holding a glittering needle was a male, but each time she got close enough to get a good look at his true identity she would always wake up. Often this process ended up being quite violent too, causing her to furiously swing out with her fist at an invisible opponent before ultimately drifting back off to sleep.

Now that she was fully awake, she understood that all of her dreams had held a purpose. Her nightmare about Grout's ghouls was probably her mind's way of coming to terms with what she had seen, while her more personal dream had a great deal of symbolism behind it. She assumed that the straightjacket and padded cell represented how hopelessly alone she currently felt, much like how one would feel being locked away in an actual prison. The shadowy figure was probably a jab at LaCroix, while the needle he held was symbolic of the fear he instilled in her. Fear was a method of control which he often utilized, and the fact that she was being detained in her cell until he had use of her showed all the more control he had over her life. Of course all of this was speculation on her part, and it was possible that her assumptions were entirely wrong or based off mere coincidence alone. Still, being able to rationalize her dreams was comforting to her, and as such she did so quite often.

Literally rolling out of her bed, Valeska landed roughly on the floor with a loud thud. Surprisingly enough, the only part of her body that ached was her head, though that might have been because she smacked it on the ground. Sitting up, the ghoul yawned, stood up to stretch, and then glanced around for her glasses. The room was dim, probably because the sun had already begun to set and she had closed her curtains, but she was still able to locate her corrective eyewear. Yawning again, she made her way to the bathroom after shooting a glance at her clock to see that it was nearly six o'clock. Expecting to see someone who had been beaten within an inch of their life, Valeska's eyes widened when she flipped the lights on and saw the person staring dumbfounded back at her in the mirror. Besides looking somewhat tired, the ghoul appeared entirely fine as though her injuries had been a dream in of itself. Upon closer inspection she noticed a few of her deeper cuts were still present, but now they looked like cat scratches in comparison to how they had previously been.

For some reason Valeska had always been able to heal relatively quickly in the past, but now with vampire blood coursing through her veins she was practically a real life super hero, or villain depending on how one looked at it. She wouldn't be given the opportunity to fight crime or wear her underwear over her pants, but having enhanced healing was still pretty cool on its own. As happy as she was that she wouldn't have to be in annoying physical pain all night, part of her was disappointed that she would have to report back to the Prince so soon. She honestly wanted to stay as far away from him as possible for as long as possible, but that pursuit seemed impossible now that her injuries were nearly completely healed. As risky as the notion was, she knew that what the Prince didn't know wouldn't hurt him. She desperately needed this mini vacation, and not for her physical health, but for her mental and emotional stability.

One short yet enjoyable shower later, Valeska was dressed in her usual pair of blue jeans along with a low-cut black tank top. She chose a simple pair of sneakers to wear, and after sliding them on she almost walked out her front door. She stopped in her tracks though when she realized that she had intended to call her grandmother. Locating her phone, she punched in her grandma's number (which she naturally knew by heart) and waited while it dialed. She knew her relative usually retired early in the evening, but that usually wasn't until around eight or so. The time zones between California and Arizona were off by only an hour, so unless her grandmother was preoccupied, there was no good reason for why the ghoul wouldn't be able to get in contact with her.

"Hello?" came an elderly female voice. Instantly Valeska felt a smile creep up on her face, as just the sound of her grandmother's voice was soothing to her. At the same time though, there was an odd hissing sound in the background that unnerved her. More than likely it was just her TV or something, but she couldn't be sure.

"Hey Gran, it's Valeska," the ghoul revealed as she mentally pictured her relative's brown eyes lighting up at the sound of her granddaughter's voice.

"Valeska? Oh my goodness, are you alright?" her grandmother questioned, her voice full of concern. "You haven't wrote me an email in almost three weeks!"

"I know and I'm so sorry, but money has been tight lately. The company that provides my phone and internet service decided to shut me down without any warning whatsoever," Valeska quickly lied. She absolutely despised being dishonest to her grandmother, but she didn't really have a choice in the matter. At least there was zero risk in being caught in her lies though, because her relative's old age and illness made it so she often failed to notice minor inconsistencies.

"Oh honey…I'm sorry to hear that," Gram apologized. As expected, she had not bothered to ask why Valeska couldn't have contacted her from the college or at a friend's house. "Everything's okay now though, right?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," she reassured, lying through her teeth yet again. She would have given almost anything to tell her grandmother the truth about what had really happened. Things like how she was now working for a vampire, the fact that she had killed a man last night, and most of all how she was mentally falling apart. She knew that doing so though would only place her family member's life in danger, so unfortunately she would have to continue with being dishonest.

"You know you can ask me for help at any time, right? If things aren't working out in California, you still have a home here in Arizona that you can come back to," Valeska's grandma reminded.

"I know, Gran," Valeska laughed, "And I appreciate it, but really, I'm fine! Besides, I'm more worried about you. How have you been holding up?" There was a brief amount of silence on the other end of the phone, before the ghoul heard her grandmother sigh heavily.

"I won't lie to you Val, things are rough over here," Gran admitted quietly, "I'm having a hard time breathing on my own, and so the doctors have me using oxygen for most hours out of the day." Valeska said nothing for a moment, surprised by the fact that her grandmother was openly admitting to her troubles. She had always been a strong woman who was capable of anything she put her mind to, but her one weakness was that she kept her problems to herself. The fact that she wasn't now meant that things were especially bad.

"Is that the hissing sound I hear in the background then?" the ghoul inquired curiously, not sure what else to say.

"Yes. It's expensive and it used to keep me awake, but I'm getting used to it now," her grandmother answered.

"Well that's good that you can at least sleep," Valeska offered, trying to sound more hopeful than she felt. "But uhm guess what? I've got some big news for you."

"Is it good news?" Gran asked, a bit of apprehension in her voice.

"Yeah, and I think it's really going to help with your health situation too," the ghoul cheerfully responded.

"Well now you've got me curious. Spill the beans already!" her grandmother teasingly demanded.

"Okay well, there's another reason I haven't been able to get back in contact with you so quickly," she hurriedly began, "I was doing really well in college, but I realized that I wasn't being challenged. With the combination of the hoops I was being forced to jump through, and the meager amount of money I was receiving from grants, I knew it was time for me to move on."

"You left school? But I thought you were happy there!" Gran exclaimed with surprise.

"I was, but my landlord was hassling me for more money," Valeska explained, "So I decided to start looking for a job that would pay me enough to keep my apartment."

"Oh dear…I can't help but feel this is partially my fault…" the ghoul's grandmother confessed slowly with a bit of regret.

"Believe me, Gran, it's not your fault. I was thinking of leaving school for a while, and to be honest I'm glad I finally made the decision to do so," she lied. "If I hadn't left when I did, I would have never gotten my position in the business firm I was hired at."

"That's wonderful to hear, but a business firm? I had always thought you might go for something with computers, not business," Gran speculated. "You're not losing sight of becoming a computer engineer are you?"

"Not at all. In fact I get the chance to work on computers every day, because one of my jobs is handling the network system of Venture Tower in downtown LA. It's a pretty well-known structure, but in case you didn't know, it's the headquarters for the LaCroix Foundation company," Valeska revealed. She was divulging a few more details than she should have, but it wasn't like she was flat out telling her relative that she worked for a vampire.

"Wait, do you mean _the_ LaCroix Foundation? I was just reading an article about that company the other day!" the ghoul's grandma proclaimed excitedly, "They're usually so picky with their choice of employees, so you should really consider yourself lucky to have been hired there."

"Yeah, from what I heard it's not an opportunity that is commonly open to the public. Even more so, is that the CEO himself is the one who offered me the job," the ghoul disclosed. "I actually report directly to him for most of my jobs too."

"Sebastian LaCroix is your manager…? Even more reasoning to be counting your blessings then, because it's common knowledge that he is often too busy to make public appearances or even offer interviews," Valeska's sickly relative explained, "Few people have met him, and even fewer get the chance to interact with him on a daily basis."

"Uh huh, I'm real lucky," the ghoul agreed, her voice full of unintended sarcasm as she rolled her eyes.

"Hm…let me guess, he's a major jerk isn't he?" Gran jokingly guessed.

"That's putting it mildly, Gran. He's the worst kind of person I can think of," Valeska replied, "His temper is short, he has no patience whatsoever, and he's completely in love with himself. I swear it's like working for a highly manipulative version of Narcissus."

"If it's that bad, then why don't you just quit?" her relative politely asked.

"Because I've worked with worse people before, and the hours aren't too long when you consider just how incredibly lucrative the job is," she reasoned. Her grandma was silent on the other line for a moment, before she spoke up.

"I bet he's a handsome young man, isn't he?" Gran implied.

"What? Gran, no!" the ghoul quickly defended before trying to clarify her statement. "Well I mean sure he's handsome, but that has nothing to do with why I continue working for him!"

"Honey, I wasn't born yesterday. I can always tell when you have a crush on someone," her grandmother explained, "Now tell me truthfully, you like him don't you?" Valeska couldn't help but sigh with irritation. Her grandmother may have usually been easy to fool, but if there was one thing that no one could pull the wool over her eyes with, it was when the ghoul liked someone.

"Alright so I _may_ have liked him," Valeska admitted, "But after last night I doubt that's ever going to happen again."

"Aw, did you two have a lover's spat?" Gran teased.

"Grandma, no! He's my boss for god's sake, not my lover!" the ghoul cried before massaging one of her temple in frustration. She heard her grandma softly chuckling, but she doubted that her relative would be laughing if she knew her life was in Valeska's hands at all times now.

"Give it time Valeska, things will improve between you two soon, I'm sure of it," the ghoul's grandma guaranteed. "In the meantime, you said something about this job of yours being able to help my health?"

"Yeah, well like I said before this job is really lucrative. In only a few weeks' time I've managed to save up enough to have you moved to one of the top cancer fighting hospitals in all of America," Valeska informed her relative, "I'm still finalizing the details, but as soon as I get word I'll aim for some time off so that I can help you pack for Houston."

"Texas? Oh dear…honey I really appreciate this, but I can't move to Texas," Gran decided.

"Why not?" the ghoul asked, feeling very confused. "You'd be receiving the best care that you could ever get, Gran."

"But that's exactly it, Valeska. The only way I get that treatment is if I'm lying in a hospital bed so that doctors can run countless tests, poke me with needles, and pump me full of experimental drugs," her grandmother explained. "I've lived a full life with no regrets, and if I'm going to die I want it to be in the comfort of my own home, not the cold confines of a hospital."

"I…I understand," was all the ghoul could say as an intense feeling of sorrow washed over her. Her grandmother's life might have been prolonged by several years if she had gone to Texas, but she supposed that she couldn't blame her. Hospitals were a scary place for many people, especially if those same individuals were alone all day with no one to keep them company but a handful of doctors or nurses.

"Thank you for being so thoughtful, honey, but I just can't wait to die in a place that couldn't even save your grandfather," Gran continued. Valeska had not been around when her grandpa, Seamus Kelly, had passed on, but she had been led to believe that he had been a wonderful, hardworking, and caring kind of person. Seamus and his parents had been Irish immigrants who had come to America during the 1920's, and it was shortly after that her grandmother, Marie, made the acquaintance of her future husband. The two married in their early twenties (late for that time), traveled for a few years in order to find work, and then finally settled down to have their one and only daughter. The family was a happy one, but fate had deemed that they wouldn't be for long as Seamus wound up in a car accident while on the way to his job. While today his grievous injuries might have been more easily treated, medical technology was severely lacking back then, especially when the patient had little money. It was no wonder then that her grandmother didn't trust hospitals, and even more so because her only daughter had died giving birth in one. Not once had she ever blamed her granddaughter for that though, something that Valeska herself was very appreciative of because she already felt guilty enough without having to be reminded of such feelings.

"Of course, Gran, I'll cancel the plans," she promised, deciding to tell the Prince about this later.

"Thank you, dear," Gran acknowledged. "Now I hate to cut our call short, but I'm very tired and need to sleep here soon."

"That's fine, I'm supposed to be hanging up with some friends here soon anyway," the ghoul informed her grandmother. Of course this was a lie, but she didn't want to worry her relative by saying she was going to a bar to idiotically drown her sorrows. Lord knows she needed a drink though, especially after hearing her grandma turn down her proposal.

"Well don't hold up at my expense, I'm just happy to hear you still have a social life!" her relative joked.

"Surprising isn't it?" Valeska joked right back, "Well you take care of yourself ok, Gran? Call or email me if you need anything, even if it's something you think is silly."

"Same goes for you, Valeska. You have this awful habit of never asking for help when you need it, so remember that I'm always here," her grandmother reminded, which put another smile on the ghoul's face. Her grandma knew her so well, and it was comforting to know that she would always have someone to go to if she needed it.

"Will do, Gran, I love you and I'll talk to you later," Valeska told her grandma.

"Love you too, honey, goodbye," Gran exchanged before a faint click could be heard on the other end of the phone. Sighing heavily, the ghoul placed her phone back on the receiver and remained seated on her sofa bed for a moment. In her mind she knew nothing could be done to persuade her stubborn grandma to move to Texas, and while this was disappointing, in the end her relative's choice was understandable. The only thing Valeska was worried about now was how the Prince might react. Logically he would want his ghoul's grandmother to remain alive for as long as possible, and not because he cared whether she lived or died, but because it gave him a considerable amount of control over Valeska. Surely he wouldn't be that cruel to force an elderly woman into a place that she did not want to be, but then again this was Sebastian LaCroix she was thinking about.

Deciding that it would be something to worry about later, Valeska left her studio apartment and hurried down the stairs. As of late, Heather had been coming and going quite often from her own apartment, which meant the probability of the two crossing was increased. It wasn't that the ghoul hated the college student, but she could grow to be _very_ annoying at times. Heather was a party animal and Valeska was a scholar, or at least she aimed to be. The two were opposites that no longer had anything in common, so avoiding such a person to reduce one's stress levels came naturally to her. Once the ghoul exited her apartment complex (glad to have not run into Heather), she decided that she would walk to The Last Round. The establishment wasn't more than half a mile from her place, and summer had already come to an end which made the weather relatively enjoyable once the sun went down.

Literally less than five uneventful minutes later, Valeska was standing directly in front of the bar. Even from several feet away she could smell the overwhelming scent of cigarette ash and booze, which was amplified due to her ghoul abilities. She hesitated walking through the front doors for only a moment, as she found herself caught in a debate with her conscience on whether or not she should be doing this. It wasn't in any sense an intelligent move to make by drinking alone when she was emotionally overwhelmed, and truthfully she should have been calling a friend like Mercurio to rant to. However, she didn't really want to pathetically run to him every time she had some minor problem, and tonight she wasn't in the mood to interact with anyone anyway. Well cautiousness and wisdom be damned, she had money to spend and she wanted to do this. She could have gone to a fancier bar, but that entailed dressing up and acting like someone she wasn't. A rundown dump like The Last Round was the perfect place for her to blend in, relax, and not give a shit about anyone around her.

Taking a deep breath, Valeska walked through the front door and was immediately met with heavy metal music. It was rather loud, but not to the point where it was deafening like some places she had been to. Normally she would have been grateful for this, but tonight she had been hoping that she could use blaring music as an excuse not to talk to anyone. Sometimes, but not always, some drunken idiot would try to hit on her, so flat out ignoring them due to not being able to hear was an acceptable excuse. Fortunately for her, the place wasn't too crowded and had plenty of room for her to isolate herself should she choose to do so.

On the left side of the room was a decent sized bar being run by an elderly woman of all people, with a handful of barstools placed in front of it. There was also a TV hanging from the ceiling in the corner of the bar, but because it was shut off the ghoul assumed it was probably broken. On the other side of the room there were a couple of red booths, a Call of Duty pinball machine, and a darts board that a few rowdy individuals were gathered around playing. Finally, at the far end of the area there were some stairs that presumably lead up to another part of the bar, but seeing as how Valeska had come for a drink, she had no intention of exploring upstairs. Overall, the place was surprisingly homey, and besides having a bit of garbage scattered on the ground, it was not as rundown or trashy as its outside appearance suggested. Granted it still wasn't a place she would take her grandmother or anything, but for tonight it would serve its purpose well enough.

Locating an empty stool, Valeska sat down and waited for the bartender to approach her. While she waited, she took to observing some of the establishment's patrons. Most of them appeared as she expected them to be, with half of them trying to drown themselves in a drink and the other half dressed in rebellious biker attire. The small group playing darts in particular definitely filled the role of individuals you wouldn't want to piss off due to how physically strong they appeared to be. Even the redheaded woman with bright ruby lips looked intimidating, and despite the fact that she couldn't have been any taller than five foot, she probably would have been able to take on the men grouped around her. This fact proved true when it was her turn to throw a dart, and she hit the bull's-eye on her first turn. The rest of her throws were also very close to the center of the board, though a few of them seemed way off from their intended destination.

"Fuck yeah!" the ginger ecstatically shouted as she pumped the air with her fist. "Now THAT is how you play darts, boys!"

"Damn…" the African American male complained in a low tone while shaking his bald head. "Not sure I can beat that." Dressed in a tight pale green t-shirt and dark brown pants, the man's muscles practically bulged when he crossed his arms in frustration.

"Aw shit, Skelter, you gonna let some chick handle ya like that?" another of the guys teased before taking a puff from his cigar. Just like the individual whose name was apparently Skelter, the long bearded man had prominent muscles that were easily seen due to the fact that he was wearing a leather vest with no shirt underneath. Other than that, the only other noticeable feature about him was that he was very hairy. His long dark hair looked greasy, his even longer beard appeared unkempt, and his pale chest also had a considerable amount of black hair upon it. All he needed was an eye patch or a peg leg, and he might have resembled a pirate. Instead though, his appearance mirrored that of a biker bum.

"Hey fuck you, Jack! I'm not just 'some chick'," the redheaded, beret wearing female snapped, her anger sounding more playful than vindictive. "I'm the goddamn den mother here!" Her words caused Jack to let out a loud appreciative laugh, as smoke billowed from his mouth as though he were a dragon.

"Calm down Firetop," Jack suggested, "You're only playing darts, not fighting in World War 3."

"Well come on then man, let's see you beat Damsel's score," Skelter urged as he collected the darts and handed them to Jack. Valeska was just able to make out the fact that Skelter wore a pair of matching gold earrings.

"Heh, alright son, watch and learn," Jack instructed as he took up a throwing stance. With his cigar hanging limply from the corners of his mouth, he quickly and accurately tossed the darts so that the final image resembled a smiley face with a majority of the hits grouped in the center of the board. The final person, who had yet to be addressed, burst into laughter which was surprising seeing as how he appeared to be more content in silently leaning against one of the nearby walls.

"I think the evidence speaks for itself boys and girls. Jack wins this round," the nameless man announced as he approached his assumed friends. Looking him over, Valeska was astonished to find that he had a rugged attractiveness to him that she found appealing. Despite his worn biker attire of brown jeans, a denim jacket, and a white tank top, he seemed oddly approachable and charismatic too. His short hair was either dark brown or black, while his trimmed beard and moustache combo closely matched this color. Finally, he also wore a few necklaces and compared to the others his skin was quite pale. This alone said a lot seeing as how Damsel was white as snow, and his general appearance suggested the personality of someone who would probably enjoy riding their motorcycle into the sunset.

"Shit, even if he hadn't beaten Damsel, he's still got more style than the rest of us combined," Skelter pointed out as his female friend crossed her arms. Damsel was obviously irritated about her score being beaten so easily, but it was likely that she was holding her tongue because of the respect that she and the others had for Jack. "That why they call you Smiling Jack?"

"Ghehehe, nope! That's a whole other story son, but if you kids wanna hear it then grab a few drinks and meet me upstairs," Smiling Jack offered with a mischievous grin that honored his title. "Cautionary word of advice though, it ain't for the faint of heart."

"What do you take us as, Jack? Pussy ass capes?" Damsel joked as she walked into the back room, presumably to grab their drinks. Jack chuckled a bit as he made his way to the stairs while Skelter followed him closely like a lost puppy dog. Whoever Jack actually was to their group, it was clear to Valeska that he was probably looked up to as a respected role model. She could easily see why though, as Jack had what some people might refer to as the 'badass factor.'

"You comin' Nines?" Skelter asked from around the stairs corner.

"No thanks, but you go ahead. I've heard enough tales of Jack's prowess to last me a lifetime," Nines explained with a smirk.

"Or two in your case," Damsel reminded as she emerged from the back room holding an armful of bottles. Valeska raised an eyebrow at this suspicious comment, and when she noticed that the bottles Damsel was holding were tinted so that their contents couldn't be seen, she couldn't help but feel a little nervous. The ghoul was probably just being paranoid again, but either way she was glad that most of the assumed bikers were vacating the area. She had this awful feeling that the pale group of friends consisted entirely of vampires, and after last night she wasn't in the mood for putting up with any more blood suckers, especially since they were stereotypical of the Brujah clan. She had never met a Brujah vampire as far as she knew, but she had heard more than enough rumors about them to know that most of them were violent Anarchs. Stereotypes were usually inaccurate since they were primarily based off ignorance, but in this case she couldn't be sure of anything.

Valeska took to observing Nines in an attempt to discover if he really was a vampire, but he seemed to sense her eyes on him and shot her a friendly smile. Immediately she nervously blushed and turned back towards the bar counters feeling incredibly awkward. The ghoul then saw that standing in front of her was the female bartender, who she had considered to be out of place due to her old age. Apparently she had been impatiently waiting for Valeska to order a drink, as in addition the Van Halen t-shirt, she wore an angry scowl.

"Ya gonna order somethin' or are ya gonna ogle my customers all night?" the elderly bartender demanded, her voice cracking probably due to years of smoking.

"Uh yeah, sorry. Shot of Jack please," Valeska requested. From the corner of her eye she noticed someone sit down right next to her, despite the fact that there were plenty of other empty barstools for an individual to choose from.

"Make that two if you would," the familiar voice of Nines said. As the bartended nodded and set off to make their drinks, the ghoul foolishly hoped that she might be able to ignore the person sitting next to her. Of course she wouldn't be so lucky, as within moments he directed his attention towards her. "Hell of a drink to be ordering in the middle of the week."

"Yep," the ghoul agreed, avoiding eye contact all together. Perhaps if her words were short and to the point she might escape having to partake in the social interaction she had planned to avoid that evening.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you in here before," Nines continued, "I think I would've remembered someone whose type we rarely see." His statement, while simple, made her question whether it had been his attempt to hit on her or if it had been an affirmation of truth. Her casual appearance was completely different of nearly every person she had seen that night, so she would understand if this was what he was implying.

"Yep," Valeska repeated in a bored tone of voice.

"Is 'yep' the only thing you ever say?" he snickered, his deep laugh resonating in his throat.

"Yep," she sighed with a bit of unintended irritation. She wasn't trying to be rude, but she just wanted to be left alone.

"Come on lady, I'm really tryin' here. You've got the look of someone who has been through hell and back," Nines revealed. "I'd like to help if possible, so how's about you tell me your name, I buy you your drink, and I give you a temporary friend to vent to?" Valeska turned to examine his face for any signs of deception, but saw only friendly compassion instead. It was so odd to see that kind of expression on someone who looked like a tough biker dude, but once again assumed stereotypes were often incorrect. She wasn't sure if she should trust him yet, but at least he had a decent amount of intuition going for him. That or she was just that transparent in displaying her emotions.

"Why are you doing this?" Valeska questioned suspiciously as she stared into Nines' light blue eyes. They were absolutely stunning, but in an annoying way they reminded her of LaCroix's own ocean blue orbs. She had hoped that escaping to a bar located far away from her boss would prevent her from thinking of him, but her thoughts of him persisted even when she was conversing with an attractive man of the exact opposite personality.

"Why not? It's a slow night with nothing going on, and I figured that talking with a beautiful young woman might help to pass the time," Nines shrugged with a small smirk. Valeska was normally very paranoid when someone complimented her, as most men she had encountered only said such things when they were hoping to get lucky. This time around however, she couldn't help but smile at his seemingly genuine compliment. Her initial assumption of the man being a charmer was turning out to be an accurate one, and she hated to admit it, but she was definitely a sucker for a scoundrel's charm.

"Oh fine…my name is Valeska," the ghoul divulged still wearing a small smile. "And you are…?"

"Nice to meet you Valeska, the name's Nines," he answered. Most of her nights when she met someone new consisted of the traditional handshake, but the fact that Nines didn't move to do this was a refreshing change. He wasn't trying to impress her with formal business manners, he was just being himself which in turn allowed her to relax a bit. Before the two could exchange any other words, the bartender arrived with two shots of Jack Daniel's whiskey. Without any form of warning, Valeska reached forward, brought the glass to her lips, and downed the whole thing within seconds. The alcohol tasted a bit sour, but she was grateful that it went down relatively smoothly. Unfortunately it had no other effect on her, and she knew it was going to take more than a single shot to achieve the relaxed feeling she so desperately desired.

"Another please," Valeska ordered, placing the glass back down on the bartender's tray.

"Look, if ya wanna get drunk, then let me whip up a Long Island Ice Tea for ya," the bartender offered.

"Sure, whatever," she nonchalantly agreed.

"And you?" the bartender asked Nines, who had already finished his shot as well.

"The usual, Jo," he replied, also handing his glass back. Were those fangs she saw when he spoke?

"Got it," was all Jo said before leaving to enter the back room. Even with the music blaring and as far away as she was, the ghoul was still able to hear the bartender violently coughing.

"Right then, seeing as how you're taking in alcohol like a fish breathes water, let's start with what brought you here in the first place, Valeska," Nines instructed with a warm smile. The ghoul was stupid to trust another person who was probably a vampire, but she just couldn't help herself. She didn't want to talk to anyone, but it didn't change the fact that she_ needed_ someone to talk to. A friendly stranger that she would probably never see again was her best bet of accomplishing this, especially since she could lie through her teeth and he would probably have no idea of her dishonesty.

If Nines really was a vampire like she thought he was though, then at least he didn't seem like the blood thirsty type. She still planned to stay on her toes, but if the alcohol lowered her inhibition to the point where it would allow him to feed from her, then so be it. This wouldn't be the first time she had been fed upon, and she knew enough about civil vampires to know that they didn't kill their victims. If on the other hand he was merely human and their drinking led down a more sexual path, well then why not? She had never been the type to have a one night stand, but there was no time like the present to experience such an event. Either way, this night would be the first time that she was going to let fate control her life. Whatever was going to happen, would happen, and rather than be stressed out with paranoia filled plans that were made weeks in advance of the actual event, she was simply going to enjoy herself. And if LaCroix found out about her night of fun? Well then he could just kiss her ass, because there was nothing in his contract that forbid her from cutting loose.

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**Author's Note:** So how was it? Did the Anarchs match their true personalities for the most part? Some of the characters are easy for me to write, but The Last Round's usual patrons were not. I'm still debating on how far I want Nines and Valeska's temporary friendship to go, but rest assured, things will not be all peachy when he finds out who she works for. Additionally, LaCroix isn't going to be happy when he finds out she's been openly associating with Anarchs, but when is that man ever happy? There will be a chapter through LaCroix's POV, a chapter through Nine's POV, and a chapter that introduces the main character of VTMB before leading into that game's plot. A question I have for my readers is what clan would you prefer to see that character belonging to? I was considering Malkavian for humor purposes, but I would love to hear your guy's opinion on this. Please feel free to share any other ideas, compliments, critiques, questions, etc, and I shall do my best to get back to you in the next chapter!


	31. Depraved Desires

**Author's Note:** *bangs head against wall* Ok so writing this chapter, which I believe is my longest one yet, just about killed me. Well not really, but trying to upload it when the fanfiction site keeps timing out, and forcing me to refresh a page literally twenty plus times is a pain in the ass (a huge reason for why it's been delayed). Anyway, there is so much going on in this chapter that I'm afraid some people might miss certain parts due to how everyone and everything eventually subtly (or not so subtly) connects. Added to the fact that Nines is difficult to write for and that this is my first attempt ever at writing a scene that could be considered rated M, and it's understandable that I'm more than a little nervous about how fans will interpret it. It may be one of those chapters that everyone adores, or it might just cause everyone to sharpen pikes for my head due to how badly it's possibly been written. I honestly have no idea, but either way this one in particular I really need feedback on, so please leave a review if you can! Thanks everyone. =)

**Special Thanks: **Thank you to my two new followers who are Naruto Loves FemKyuubi and Z0mbieMart! Also, I really want to thank the reviewers of the last chapter who are Topgallant, Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, myobsidianbutterfly, and Lucius's Mistress. It's hard to believe that I've reached 100 reviews, but thanks to you all, I've finally accomplished this milestone. I couldn't have done it without all of you, readers and reviewers alike, so again thank you so much! ^_^

**Responses:** To Topgallant: I understand about being busy, life tends to do that a lot to even the best of us. I'm glad you liked Valeska's sweet nature during the last chapter, because I really wanted to show a sort of mother/daughter bond she had with her grandma. I'm still deciding what to do with the Anarchs, though this chapter may give you a bit more direction with what I'm thinking of. Finally, I'm really leaning towards Toreador thanks to your suggestion, because I believe it would be hilarious to write for.

To Naruto Loves FemKyuubi: Thanks for the review, but as of right now my story isn't going to have LaCroix's sire influencing his thoughts. The Prince's actions are all his own, which isn't too unbelievable when one stops to consider how power hungry the man is.

To myobsidianbutterfly: I was really aiming for a family type scene, because from what I saw in the game the Anarchs always seemed to have each other's backs no matter what. Thank you again by the way for everything you've sent me via PM, it's been very helpful!

To Lucius's Mistress: Well if you enjoyed that, then this chapter will be one you definitely enjoy. I can't promise that it will lead anywhere promising, but it will be a bit of a teaser that is bound to please at least one person. I'm happy to hear that your mom is out of the hospital, and I do hope she heals up quickly. =)

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**Chapter 30 Depraved Desires **

By the time Valeska had finished her second Long Island Ice tea, she had achieved her preferred happy medium of being tipsy, but not quite drunk. Normally the ghoul could be labeled as anything but a lightweight, yet tonight was somehow different as she was behaving uncharacteristically bubbly. Logically then she assumed that her drink must have been loaded down with alcohol, but she was currently much too carefree to bother with worrying about this. Her mind was empty of any feelings related to anxiety, her relaxed body felt like a limp fish, and her usual thoughts of LaCroix didn't even register on her mental radar. In return, having a relaxed mind that wasn't obsessing over the pompous Prince meant that she could focus her attention on Nines Rodriguez, someone who was quickly proving to be an enjoyable individual to socialize with.

The two had only been talking for a little less than two hours, and already the ghoul found herself more than hoping that the night might end back at her place. At first their conversation had been nothing but her ranting about how much of a jerk her boss was, and how she unfortunately had to remain working for him due to financial issues. She wasn't lying about this, not exactly anyway, but she had no choice on exercising caution when revealing any important details about her new life. After all, if Nines wasn't a vampire then she would not only be violating the Masquerade, but any confession of her obviously illegal activities might just place her in a jail cell.

Despite her vague statements though, Nines was more or less able to determine what she was implying and in return offer a few words of advice. They weren't entirely helpful considering her unmentioned blackmail situation, but for the information she had provided, her biker friend made it clear that he had quite a bit of experience in offering support to other people. His proposed solutions, while rebellious and confrontational, were surprisingly reasonable when she stopped to think about it. Then again it could have just been the alcohol in her system that was making his ideas sound so rational, but the point was, that speaking with Nines was helping her to release most of her built up anger. Most of this was because his personality really was the exact opposite of LaCroix's, as Nines was friendly, honest, humble, and best of all, real. There was no false front he was putting up in order to maintain his reputation or to exert some kind of authority on those around him; he was simply being himself while at the same time maintaining the confident impression that if someone didn't like his attitude or beliefs, then they could go to hell.

Eventually Valeska got to the point where she felt much calmer, which allowed their conversation to drift towards a more lighthearted yet also engaging approach. Unexpectedly though, no matter what topic they chose to debate, Nines was well decently educated on each one. It had been more than enough to win her over for the night with his good looks and charm, but the fact that he was intelligent enough to hold his ground in a friendly argument made it so he was definitely a keeper in her book. Even better was the fact that the two of them seemed to agree on nearly everything when it came to politics, something else she found surprising due to how often people labeled her ideas as anti-government. It wasn't true of course, but she did hold the belief that the government often made decisions that seemed to benefit them more than the people they supposedly represented. Nines may have been more of an extremist in regards to this notion (perhaps due to a negative experience of some kind), but in the end their ideas matched relatively well.

"Seems like you've got a good head on your shoulders, Val," Nines pointed out, before taking a swig from his beer bottle. "That's good, cuz too many people these days trust in whatever bullshit the media puts out. Crooked politicians are made to look like saints while peaceful protestors are turned into terrorists."

"People are so silly," Valeska agreed, sipping gingerly at her drink. Judging by how silly she sounded herself, she didn't want her inhabitations lowered any further than they already were. Her current drink would probably be the last one for the night, because if she took in any more alcohol then she would probably end up vomiting in the bathroom all night. Just to be sure though, she gestured the bartender to bring her a glass of water so that she might better dilute some of the present fluid in her stomach.

"A lot of em' are, but I've met a few people that aren't assholes. Take for instance the group you saw earlier. They actually share the same beliefs I do, and we all do our best to fight for those beliefs," he explained in a serious tone while watching her carefully. Why did she get the feeling he was trying to recruit her for something? "You wanna meet em'?"

"I'm not so good with meeting new peeps. Besides, it's you I'm interested in, Mr. Rodriguez," the ghoul clumsily flirted as she leaned forward slightly, her head resting on one of her hands. It wasn't the most well put together statement she could have used, but it caused Nines to smirk at least. More than likely this was because her current sitting stance was seductively propping up her breasts, a part of her body that she had caught the biker's eyes drifting to more than once.

"Yeah? Why's that?" Nines questioned while tilting his head and crossing his arms. His light blue eyes drilled into her own, and maybe it was because he had gained her trust, but she could easily see herself getting lost in them if she chose to do so.

"Uh…well, for one I like a man who fights for what he believes in. It's a super rare quality, and even more so when that same person actually has a brain," she answered, her words sounding more like a run-on sentence rather than a coherent declaration. "And…uh…" She paused, unable to continue due to her shyness that regrettably persisted even when she was relaxed.

"And… what else?" he asked, still wearing his half smile. As always smirks tended to drive her wild, and in this case his was no exception. Her mind was already hazy enough without having to worry about feelings of attraction clouding her thoughts, but unlike with LaCroix, she was enjoying the figurative butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

"Uhm…well…" she began again, her face turning a steady shade of crimson as she resisted the urge to bite her lower lip. "Gonna be blunt here, but physically you're kinda hot. Like, I'm not even sure how to tell you how attractive you even are." Mentally she kicked herself for sounding like an idiotic child, but truth be told, confessing her attraction to someone had never been something she had excelled with in her past. This night in particular would probably be taking first place in her hall of embarrassing stories to tell her children…if she ever had children that is.

"Right back at you, sweetheart," Nines complimented, his voice low and husky. A tiny giggle escaped from the ghoul's lips, something she normally would have hated herself for, but in this instance she couldn't help. Even when she was stumbling over her own words, Nines always knew what to say to fix the situation. He was so smooth, and when a moment of silence fell between the two, Valeska found herself gazing into those striking blue eyes of his.

Glancing down at his lips, she couldn't resist licking her own in anticipation with what she was about to do. Everything in her body was practically screaming at her to kiss him, and whether this was because of the alcohol or a legitimate attraction she had towards him, she neither knew nor cared. Almost as if he was reading her mind, or more likely her obvious body language, Nines leaned in close to the ghoul.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he whispered, his lips teasingly brushing her ear. Valeska trembled slightly, not only because of the way he spoke which was so very alluring, but because he had targeted one a weak spot: her ears. Before she had the chance to even nod though, an annoying voice sounded through the air.

"Niiiiiines!" a nasally female voice shouted, completely ruining the moment.

"Goddamn it…" Nines grumbled as he pulled away from the disappointed ghoul. "What, Patty?" Turning around in order to glare at whoever had interrupted their lustful moment, Valeska saw a short, auburn haired woman with large brown eyes. Her fashionable sense in clothing gave her the impression of someone who was the life of the party, but her facial expressions made her look like a desperate or disturbed drug addict.

"I can't find Kent anywheeere," Patty complained, her words being dragged out as though she were a five year old. "A week ago he told me to meet him at Club Confession today at nine, but he's not there at all!"

"Well what do you expect me to do about it?" Nines demanded, his voice full of hostile anger.

"I don't know! Help me find him maybe?" the frantic woman requested, "I'm so worried that someone might have hurt him."

"Kent's a big boy, Patty, he can handle himself," Nines explained with irritation.

"Yeah, but what if someone staked him?!" Patty anxiously cried, "He'd be paralyzed, and then anyone could do whatever they wanted to him!" Valeska said nothing as she raised a single eyebrow at Patty's suspicious statement. She may have been tipsy, but she was not that far gone to not realize a vampire related statement when she heard one. It wasn't like being staked could mean anything else, but for the world of a drug addict, it could have been a possible phrase that meant getting high.

"Goddamn it, Patty, what the hell are you on now?" he interrogated, even going as far as to stand up from his seat in a semi threatening way. Valeska couldn't tell if he was actually angry or just concerned, but one thing she knew for sure was that her theory on Patty being a drug addict was concrete.

"I'm n-" she began.

"No, you know what? I don't even want to know with you, so just forget I asked," Nines interrupted, "You're bringin' round trouble that we don't need here, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave." From the corner of her eye, Valeska noticed that Skelter had come down the stairs in order to observe the situation as it unfolded. More than likely this was just in case things turned sour, but while Patty didn't look physically capable of fighting off anyone, it was nice to know that Nines had backup if needed.

"B-but, Niiiines," she stammered while cowering in his presence that was towering compared to her own. "What other reason would he have for not showing up…?"

"Oh I don't know! Have you considered it's cuz he's tired o' your damn whining?" Nines questioned, the same tone of rage still present in his voice.

"Kent wouldn't just abandon me like that! He needs me and I need him!" Patty screeched, drawing the attention of the few remaining people in the bar.

"Look, Patty, I'm not going to tell you again," Nines started, his voice low and intimidating as he took a step towards the drug addict, "Either you leave now, or I throw your sorry ass into the street myself!"

"Fine, whatever! It's not like a dumbass rebel that shops at Goodwill would know anything anyway!" she countered fiercely before stomping out of the establishment. Nines shook his head and sighed with frustration before sitting back down in his seat.

"Fuckin' junkies…" he mumbled after taking a mouthful of beer into his mouth. Valeska nodded in agreement, watching his Adam's apple bob as he drank.

"Yeah, what a ghoul," Valeska agreed, before her eyes widened in shock. Immediately Nines stopped drinking from his bottle and stared at her with suspicion that was quickly covered up by confusion.

"A what?" he asked with mild curiosity. The ghoul might have slipped up, but there was still time for her to fix the situation.

"An uhm…girl," she clarified, "I think the booze is starting to slur my words." She gave Nines an awkward smile, but she knew that her poor attempt to blame the alcohol in her system had been just that, a _very_ poor attempt.

"Uh huh…you don't look that far gone to me, Val," Nines pointed out.

"I'm a lightweight," she lied with a forced giggle. "Always have been, and always will be."

"You're a ghoul aren't you?" he bluntly inquired.

"No, what the hell is that?" the ghoul quickly returned before gulping down her glass of water. If her defensive words weren't obvious enough of her dishonesty, then the fact that she was refusing to look the biker in his eyes had to have been a dead giveaway.

"Heh, you're a horrible liar, you know that?" Nines laughed, much to her irritation. "If it makes you feel better, I'm not really that surprised to hear it."

"Why not…?" Valeska asked in confusion; she was pretty sure she had maintained a high degree of secrecy when it came to the information she divulged so why was he so calm about it?

"For one you were vague about your boss, and for two you haven't really told me shit bout what it is you actually do for a livin'. It's kinda funny actually, but every time I've asked you bout your job your face screws up with this look of terror," he replied as Valeska shot him an unintended anxious glance. "And there it is now. People who do that are usually hidin' something, and in a place like LA, that something can almost always be tied to vampires, gangs, or drugs. Sometimes that means all of the above." Valeska merely nodded, not really sure what to say in response to his statement for the fear that she might somehow slip up again. "Hey it's cool, your secret's safe with me. Do you mind if I ask what clan your master belongs to though?"

"I…I don't think it's a good idea for me to talk about him…" Valeska answered slowly before biting nervously at her lower lip. "I shouldn't really have said anything about him in the first place…" Part of her wanted to just explode with every single detail she knew about the Prince, but something prevented her from doing so. It was like there was block in her mind that whispered of promised horrors or intense pain should she choose to betray LaCroix. It could have just been because she was partially inebriated, but more than likely it was because of the vampire blood in her system.

"No problem, and I like I said your secret's safe with me," Nines reminded. On his face was a reassuring smile, but Valeska was pretty sure there was a bit of his own mistrust thrown into the mix somewhere.

"Thanks," the ghoul began before pausing. "Are you…? I mean…" She stopped again, unsure on how exactly she was supposed to ask her query. After all, it wasn't every day that you just outright questioned someone on whether or not they were a blood sucking creature of the night.

"Yep," Nines answered, "I'm from the Brujah clan, same as most of the regulars here." So her initial worry about The Last Round harboring vampires had been correct. She really should have been more surprised than she was, but part of her always knew that there was something strange about the establishment. Maybe it was because she was inclined to believe that the people she saw hanging around the structure were up to no good, or maybe it was because of her woman's intuition, but either way at least she now knew the truth.

"I've never met a Brujah before. At least…I don't think I have," the ghoul confessed. "I have to admit though that for all the rumors I've heard about you guys, I didn't expect your clan to be…scholarly."

"Eh…depends on the Brujah, but it's said that our clan originated from a warrior-philosopher or something like that," the biker speculated, "You'd have to ask Skelter, I mean one of the others, but that's what our history says anyway."

"I see. Out of curiosity, were you…going to feed on me?" Valeska hesitantly asked.

"Probably. Sex usually leads to drinkin' my partner's blood at some point," the Brujah vampire shrugged. Valeska said nothing and she must have looked somewhat disturbed because Nines immediately moved to rectify his statement. "But only if you wanted to of course."

"I have no problem with that," the ghoul divulged. She must have been crazy to consider letting Nines feed on her, but what did she have to lose really? He was a vampire, and as such she didn't have to worry about contracting a disease or even getting pregnant if they decided to go all natural (an image that made her want to blush to be sure). Judging by how civil the Brujah had behaved so far, it was unlikely that he was part of the Sabbat which therefore meant that the risk of her being drained dry was low. Other than rumors that might possibly escape and affect the Prince's reputation, there was literally no downside to what she wanted to do.

"Really?" Nines asked, his face full of shock, "You do realize what you're offerin' right?"

"I think the correct term is blood doll, so yes," she responded, "Tonight I came in here for a drink, but knowing that it might end with you in my bed is a chance that I'm no way in hell going to pass up."

"Well alright then," he said with a smirk as he downed the rest of his drink, "Let's head out." Valeska nodded and watched as Nines laid down a handful of bills to pay for their drinks, something she almost objected to, but decided that it really wasn't worth the effort. When the two stepped outside and into the chilly air, the ghoul was surprised when her vampire companion displayed an act of chivalry by handing her his jacket.

"Thanks," Valeska acknowledged with a small smile. When she slipped the denim jacket on, the unmistaken yet oddly comforting scent of a man mixed with smoke found its way into her nose. Obviously it was nowhere near as satisfying as LaCroix's fancy cologne, but Nines' smell had a certain charm to it.

"No problem. Now where do you live?" he requested with his thumbs in his jeans.

"Literally right up the street," she replied. Nines look somewhat surprised but said nothing as he gestured for her to lead the way, and then proceeded to follow closely besides her as she set off toward her apartment. Their trip was short, and as such not much was said between the two other than Nines questioning as to why she had so many scratches on her arms. It was an awkward moment for her, especially since the the last thing she wanted was the Brujah to think that she cut herself in her spare time. Rather than attempt to lie as she knew she would stumble over her words, she sloppily admitted that part of her job entailed occasionally being thrown into a dangerous situation. Luckily for her, alcohol generally ran through her system relatively quickly, and though she was still somewhat tipsy, the combination of water she had drank earlier and the cool air was helping her to be more alert and less foolish with her choice of words. Unfortunately this was also a bit of a double edged sword, because having a clearer mind meant that her relaxed thoughts were being replaced with annoying paranoia. The choice she had made to bring Nines home however was final, and there was no way she was going to change her mind now.

Eventually the pair arrived at the apartment building, though Valeska was glad that they didn't spend any more time outside than what was necessary. This was probably since she was worried about impressing Nines, as somehow the Chalfonte Apartment Complex seemed even more run down than usual. It was likely that he didn't care one way or another about such minor details, seeing as how he probably only had one of two things on his mind: sex or blood. This wasn't much different from her own thoughts however, so it wasn't like she could pass judgment on him.

As Valeska ascended the empty stairwell, she couldn't help but notice as she turned the corner that Nines was blatantly checking her out from behind. If it has been anyone else she would have shot the perpetrator a dirty look, but when she made eye contact with the Brujah, she saw a guilt free smirk creep up onto his face. He was a man who knew what he wanted and as such made no apologies for his actions; it was this same confidence that had originally lured her in, and though she didn't want to admit it, it was yet another feature about the biker that reminded her of her boss. LaCroix was the last person she really wanted to think about, but such was the life of a ghoul she supposed.

Within minutes the two were standing outside Valeska's front door, but after unlocking it, the ghoul was greeted with the abnormality of her apartment being completely shrouded in darkness. Normally she left a light or two on so that it would ward off robbers, and tonight in particular she was pretty sure that she had left at least one of her lamps on. Instead the only light she could make out in the small room was the blinking red light on her answering machine. This was yet another odd phenomenon, seeing as how no one she knew ever left her messages. However, before she had the opportunity to explore the underlying causes for said events, she felt her temporarily borrowed jacket being peeled off her arms.

"Now that we're alone…" Nines began in a low, seductive voice. With her arms now bare, he began to run his calloused hands slowly up and down both of them in a manner similar to how one might receive a comforting massage. The only difference here though was that the ghoul knew he was purposefully teasing her. Turning around to face his hallway illuminated silhouette, the ghoul decided to gain the upper hand by wrapping her arms around his neck in order to pull him in for a kiss. Her moves were abrupt, and though they obviously took Nines by surprise, she was still able to feel his lips turn upwards in a half smile before he kissed her right back with unexpected force. The vampire snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to his own cold body as his kiss deepened and he kicked the door shut behind them.

Now in complete darkness, the lack of sight enhanced Valeska's other senses, making every single move her partner made feel like jolts of electricity shooting through her body. The only problem was that no matter how hard she tried, her mind repeatedly brought her back to the illusion that she was kissing the Prince. She absolutely despised the man, yet she wanted him so badly that it was corrupting her very foundation by turning her into someone that she no longer recognized. There was no point in denying her attraction towards LaCroix though, so deciding that it would do no harm to lose herself to her fantasy, she closed her eyes and gave in to the moment.

Trusting the Brujah's superior vision to guide them, she felt herself being gently pushed onto her sofa bed that she had yet to fold back up. As Nines climbed on top of the ghoul, the intensity of their kiss increased with the ghoul nibbling on her partner's lip and the vampire making a sound that could only be described as approved satisfaction. Without warning she felt Nines slip his hand under her shirt, and though his fingers were undeniably cold, a moan slipped from her mouth nevertheless when he cupped one of her breasts. Seeing her open mouth as an opportunity, the Brujah captured her mouth with his own and slipped his tongue inside. Their tongues twirled around each other in an erotic dance, before he pulled back and began to leave hungry kisses that started with her lips and ended in the crook of her neck. With one of her hands tangled in his hair, and the other on his lower back, Valeska's breath caught in her throat as she anticipated what would come next. Naturally she was quite terrified, yet the excitement she felt overrode any hesitation she would have normally had. She wanted Nines to feed on her, or more specifically, she wanted LaCroix to feed on her, but the Brujah would have to do for now. However, before either of them would be granted the satisfaction of such an erotic move, Valeska heard her phone ringing. If she could have she would have outright ignored the call, but something inside told her that it was important.

"I need to get that," Valeska breathed, her voice cracking slightly.

"Ignore it," Nines growled seductively in her ear as he proceeded to nibble on it. His actions drove her wild, and though she would have loved to remain lying on the sofa with her partner's body pushed into hers, she had to answer the phone.

"I can't," the ghoul said as she squirmed out of the Brujah's hold. She heard a sigh of aggravation as the Brujah biker sat up, not that she could really blame him for doing so as she would be upset too if she were in his position too. Using the blinking red light from her answer machine as a guide, she fumbled blindly in the dark until she felt and picked up her receiver. "Hello?"

"Is there a reason you've neglected to answer your phone, Miss Latimer?" the voice of LaCroix demanded coolly. Valeska's heart dropped, because even though she may have been fantasizing about kissing the Prince only seconds ago, he was currently the last person she wanted to talk with.

"Sorry, sir. I was out picking up some things," the ghoul lied. "Was there something you needed?" She knew it was to her advantage to use deception in this case, because telling him that she was busy drinking and getting it on with Brujah vampire would probably set him off even more so than usual since she had the sneaking suspicion that Nines was an Anarch. For most people, judging someone's character usually came after interacting with them, and while Valeska had already determined quite a bit about his personality, it was only now that she realized how stereotypical of an Anarch he and his friends actually were. If this really was the case though, then the rumors she had heard about their group being nothing but gangbangers were entirely incorrect. To be fair they were a little intimidating and rebellious, but since the ghoul interacted primarily with individuals who were loyal to the Camarilla, it was no wonder then that she had nothing other than negative things about the Anarchs.

"Yes in fact. Something unexpected has come up, and as my ghoul I believe it is necessary for you to be well educated in the current happenings of the vampire community," her boss explained, "Right now I'm on my way to your apartment, and will explain the details when I arrive."

"Of course, sir, anything else?" she hurriedly inquired, trying to sound more cheerful than she felt. She was happy that he hadn't asked why she was so out of breath, but now she was just terrified with what might happen should he arrive to see a strange vampire in her apartment that she wanted to end their conversation as soon as possible.

"Wear something more professional than a pair of jeans," he ordered before hanging up. Valeska let out an irritable sigh as she dropped the receiver back into its holder. The man was so obsessed with his reputation, and though she couldn't blame him since he was the Prince of LA, she had hoped by now that he might see her as more than an oblivious idiot. Reaching out to turn her lamp on, she did so and saw that Nines was already putting his jacket back on. On his face he wore an expression that was hard to read, but if she were to guess she might label it as a combination of being disappointed and oddly disturbed for some reason.

"I guess I don't need to tell you that you need to go…" Valeska announced quietly, feeling disappointed herself that the two wouldn't be spending the night together. "My boss is on his way over now and I -"

"Yep, I heard," Nines interrupted as he turned to look back at her. She understood that being stopped halfway through sex was not something to be happy about, but the man looked nearly downright pissed.

"I'm really sorry about this," the ghoul apologized, "Will I…will I see you again?"

"Maybe," he shrugged, "But if your boss is who I think it is, then hell no." His expression was firm, and it was only with this statement did she realize that LaCroix's voice would have come across as crystal clear to someone with superior hearing abilities. If Nines was an Anarch like she thought, then it would be unsurprising to discover that he hated anyone associated with the Camarilla, especially if that person was the Prince of LA.

"Whatever you may think of me or who I work for, believe me when I say I have no choice in the matter," she reassured.

"So your master that put you up to this then?" the Brujah biker demanded, a slight bit of anger clinging to his words.

"No!" Valeska anxiously denied, "I went to The Last Round tonight because my boss has been blackmailing me to stay in his employ. If I leave his company then he kills my grandma, who by the way is the only living relative I have left! I think you can understand then why I would try to find comfort in a number of different ways." Nines said nothing for a while as it looked like he was mulling over her words in his head.

"Sorry to hear that you're caught up in that mess, Val. I don't think you're lyin' to me…hell I don't think you even realize who I am, but these nights I need to be lookin' out for my own skin," he announced finally. His sky blue eyes appeared less angry and more sympathetic, but it was clear that he no longer wanted anything to do with her.

"I…understand. I guess I'll see you later, Nines," the ghoul nodded, not wanting to make any more eye contact than what was necessary.

"Cya round," Nines said with a two fingered half salute. If she were drunk she might have been astounded by the speed in which he left her apartment, but since she wasn't, she knew this his superior speed was due to the discipline of Celerity.

Sighing with frustration, the ghoul headed for her dresser and picked out something that would pass for a business meeting should she have to attend one. As she changed, she couldn't help but contemplate what kind of connection LaCroix had to Nines that would have upset the biker so heavily. He did seem a little unsure in guessing as to who her master actually was, so perhaps he was bitter rivals with someone who sounded similar to her boss. If it was the Prince that he actually hated though, then what could have caused that? Was it because they possibly belonged to opposite sects, or had their separate clans had a falling out at some point? The Brujah and Ventrue definitely didn't seem like two clans that would get along, so perhaps there was a subtle racism that existed between them. In the end though, the entire situation was simply too confusing for her to determine any kind of concrete theory, as without additional information all of her guesses were just shots in the dark.

After the ghoul had changed out of her 'street clothing' as LaCroix would have probably called them, she went to play her messages so that she would have something to listen to while putting her hair up. However, she stopped short when she spotted what looked like a fancy index card folded in half next to the answering machine. Cautiously and curiously she picked up the card and saw the letters MST neatly typed out on the front in a Victorian font. Opening the assumed letter she saw a short message that conveyed a surprising amount of useful information. It read as:

_Miss Latimer,_

_After conducting some extensive research concerning your father, I have come to the conclusion that the results of my findings are something that must be shared with your person. At your convenience then, I believe it would be to your benefit to see me as soon as possible. As promised on the night of Grout's dinner party, the exact address of my Chantry lies below._

_M. Strauss, Tremere Regent_

Below the Regent's signature was the Chantry's address, and after reading through the message an addition two more times, she placed the card back next to her phone. Right at that moment she wasn't quite sure what to feel, as she was caught between both crippling confusion that lingered from her previous contemplations and bubbling excitement that made her wonder what kind of information about her father would be important enough to permit a meeting with a Tremere Regent. Was it good or bad news that she would receive, and more importantly, how would it affect her? The burning curiosity she had was slowly but surely eating away at her mind, and it was so intense that it made her want to stand up the Prince just so she could get her questions answered. Doing so though would be the equivalence of signing her death warrant though, because she knew without a doubt that her boss would not react well to her disobedience. At least she now knew why her lights had been shut off, but it was still disturbing to think that someone could break into her apartment and then sneak back out so easily.

Knowing that she didn't have a lot of time until the Prince arrived, Valeska pushed play on her answering machine and went into her bathroom. As always, putting her hair up in a bun didn't take long, but it was significantly more amusing to do when listening to her boss's irritated voice demanding that she return his calls. She lost count after Prince LA's fourth message or so, but that was mainly because each one pretty much sounded the same.

Deciding that there wasn't much more for her to do when she was done with her hair, the ghoul shut off her answering machine and left her apartment. On her way out though, she almost ran straight into an elderly woman with greying ginger hair and desperate green eyes. It was then that she recognized the woman as Heather Poe's grandmother.

"Mrs. Poe..?" Valeska asked.

"Yes, do I know you?" she rushed, clearly wanting to end their conversation before it had even begun.

"It's me, Valeska. I used to be your granddaughter's tutor and we went to a few of the same classes together?" the ghoul offered. Heather's grandmother said nothing, as she looked far too upset to want to say anything. "Uhm…are you alright?"

"No, I'm not!" Mrs. Poe snapped angrily. After which she let out a heavy sigh and looked up at Valeska with a regretful expression. "I'm sorry, Valeska, you didn't deserve that. It's just that Heather hasn't been home in three days, and I've no idea where she is! Might you have seen her by any chance?"

"I'm sorry, but no. Heather and I haven't spoken for nearly half a month now," she apologized as her mind began to formulate plausible theories as to where Heather might be. The fashion student was well known for her party animal nature, but it wasn't like her to disappear for so long. There were a million and one possibilities to explain such a rash action on her behalf, but the optimistic ones like being with a boyfriend or traveling out of state seemed unlikely. As a college student, Heather wouldn't have the necessary money to travel anywhere, and her personality was much too spirited to stick to just one partner. Besides, if either of those were the cause of her disappearance then logically she would have answered her cell phone that she was known to carry everywhere she went. It was unfortunate, but the chances of Heather being involved in drugs or even being dead in an alley somewhere were high.

"Oh that ungrateful little brat…all she does is drink and party every night. Doesn't she realize how hard it is on me when she vanishes for so long?" Heather's grandmother ranted, "I apologize, but I need to go. God only knows what kind of trouble that child has gotten herself into now…" Without another word, she hurried past Valeska and down the stairwell. Had Valeska cared enough she might have volunteered to help the elderly woman, but when it came down to it, she hardly knew either one of them. Their family business was their own, and Mrs. Poe's chances of finding Heather were probably better off if she went to the police anyway. It might have been helpful if Valeska were to attempt to call the fashion student herself, as it was possible that she was fine and simply ignoring her grandmother out of spite. Such an act could only be defined as indisputably bitchy, but knowing Heather, causing a relative to become worried sick was not above her doing.

When she finally exited the apartment complex for the second time that evening, she realized just how good her timing was, as within mere seconds the familiar image of the Prince's expensive vehicle could be seen turning a street corner up ahead. Slowly the car came to a stop besides Valeska, and one of the rear windows rolled about halfway down.

"Get in," the familiar voice of LaCroix commanded. Doing as she was told, the ghoul slid into the backseat and fastened her seatbelt. The Prince said nothing as he watched her, but then without warning he began to lightly sniff at the air. An expression of the utmost disgust appeared on his face, and he didn't even try to hide the fact that he was turning his nose up at her. "Have you…have you been _drinking_, Miss Latimer?" Valeska froze, her eyes wide with fear of what might happen should she say yes. Then again, he never said she couldn't drink and lying would just upset him.

"Yes," she admitted.

"Why?" he requested with what sounded like mild concern. Valeska shot him a look of disbelief, not because he was obviously pretending to be worried for her health, but because he was asking such a stupid question. She wanted to scream at him that it was his fault she had gone to get drunk at a bar, that it was the way he treated her that had caused her to seek comfort in whatever arms would hold her for the night, and finally that by being the egotistical prick he was, he had ruined an evening that might have been wonderful had he not interrupted with his selfish demands. Saying any of those things was pointless though, seeing as how her words would just result in a well-spoken argument from her boss that would have her believing that he was the victim by the end of it.

"I was depressed, sir," she responded bluntly, staring as confidently as she could into the cold eyes of her boss.

"That does not answer my question, Miss Latimer. Why were you drinking?" the Prince repeated.

"My grandma has refused my offer to move her to Houston," the ghoul answered, using something that was the truth as an excuse to cover what she really wanted to say. "She wants to stay in Arizona."

"Hm. Your ability to persuade another needs work then," the Ventrue began, "I shall contact her later and convince her to relocate to Texas."

"You going to blackmail her too?" Valeska questioned, unable to keep the spite from her voice. She should have known better than to play with fire, but she just couldn't help it. His feigned concern for her health and her grandmother was just a cover for his own selfish desires, and it pissed her off that he thought she would still fall for such a ploy.

"No, Miss Latimer," he replied with narrowed eyes, "Believe it or not, I prefer not to have to utilize intimidation as a means of acquiring what I want. Diplomacy is much more effective when it comes to anything long term." Valeska rolled her eyes, as she wondered if the man sitting beside her ever told the truth. Every time she interacted with him he was using some form of bullying, whether it was the words he used himself or the towering Sheriff that always stood behind him.

"That why you take the Sheriff with you everywhere?" she challenged.

"Once again, no. His responsibilities are primarily devoted to the protection of me and those that travel with me against any outside threats. Additionally, one of his less spoken duties is to serve as a reminder to anyone who might break Camarilla law," the Prince retorted, the irritation in his voice steadily increasing. Hearing this she knew from experience that it was time to back off, but maybe someday when the stakes weren't so high she would have the chance to argue that he was nothing more than a cowardly dictator who ruled with fear instead of respect. "Which by the way, is something that you shall soon witness in person."

"What do you mean?" the ghoul inquired with confusion.

"Tonight, Miss Latimer, you're going to attend an execution," LaCroix announced nonchalantly.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Dramatic cliffhanger…kind of! Most people can probably assume as to what the Prince is hinting at, but if not, readers should know anyway that the next chapter will a prelude to how the main character of VTMB wound up being turned into a vampire. Surprisingly enough I've actually decided to go along with making the player character a male Toreador with his personality being very similar to Zevran from Dragon Age except with a prissy side to him. If any of my readers have played those games, then they will know what I'm talking about, but if not then just know that in a nutshell he's going to be ridiculously seductive while approaching problems in a stealthy rouge like manner. There may be a surprising twist to who his sire is, but I'm still trying to decide on that. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed everything I wrote in this chapter and like I said, a lot went on. Please leave a review with anything you'd like to share, because I would absolutely love to hear how people liked or disliked this part of the story!


	32. Let the Games Begin

**Author's Notes:** So here we have a mini prelude to the player character of VTMB. As I've said in other chapter, I've decided to go with making this person a Toreador male, so here entails a bit of his past as well as an introduction to his personality. In a way he's almost the exact opposite of Valeska, in that he's seductive, prissy, fashionable, egotistical, superficial, artistic, etc. A fair warning to everyone though, he's pretty much an asshole when it comes to how much emphasis he places on physical appearances. I should also inform my readers that this chapter could also be considered rated M for some reasons, so don't blame me if you didn't read this! Finally, there are also quite a few cameos of players we all know in the game, though to avoid spoilers I won't tell you who they are. Enjoy!

**Special Thanks: **Thank you to Lucius's Mistress for faving my story, and to the reviews of the last chapter who are Lucius's Mistress, Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, Topgallant, and myobsidianbutterfly. I wish there were some other way to show how much I appreciate your support, but for now just know that I wuv you all!

**Responses:** To Lucius's Mistress: Yes, from here on out we will be caught up to the game with only a few chapters backtracking to show how some characters felt or thought in certain situations (like with Nines and LaCroix). Sorry that the Prince is a cock block, but it's kind of what he does sometimes. xD One minute he's all like, 'We'll rule this city side by side you and I,' and the next he's like, 'WHERE'S TEH KEY DAMN IT?!' A little exaggerated, but you get my drift.

To Naruto Loves FemKyuubi: I'm glad that we could work out your worries through private messaging, but know that I am in no way upset with you or think your ideas are bad. You actually have some really good ideas, so keep sharing them! =)

To Topgallant: Valeska may be alone, but things with LaCroix and her will be coming to a head pretty soon. The two of them will slowly start to become more intimate, something I'm somewhat worried about in how I'm going to write those events. I'm glad that you enjoy the way I portray the Prince's behavior though, because he always seemed like the type of person whose motives were always unknown to some degree or another. I do hope that my Toreador character will be fun to read about, and yes, definitely more Tremere secrets on the way!

To myobsidianbutterfly: Glad you enjoyed the last chapter! I was pretty nervous with it since I've never written any kind of intimate scene before. I was a little confused though when you said you shipped them before, what does that mean? Thanks!

* * *

**Chapter 31 Let the Games Begin**

His name was Remy Beaumont, and out of all the men in California, you would not have found a more attractive individual. Everything from his strong jawline to his high cheek bones looked like it had been carved out by an angel, and his athletic physique was one that any woman would die for just so that they could spend a single night with it. At least, this was what the artist in his late twenties wholeheartedly believed every time he saw his own reflection. His mother had warned him of the dangers of being overly confident and obsessed with himself, but as far as he was concerned, the old hag could fall off the face of the planet. The woman was undoubtedly strong in character as raising three children by herself couldn't have been easy. However, that gave her no right to constantly lecture her son on making something out of himself, or to tell him that his path in life would never be found in between a woman's legs. His interests were his own, and if he had been born with a gorgeous face, then it was his right to take advantage of that by enjoying the company of some of the most beautiful women that life had to offer.

Eventually though, when you've already sampled the flavor from dozens and dozens of local women you grow bored of the community, even if that community is as large as New Orleans. For a while Remy had taken to traveling to some of the outlying towns in search for something that might spark his inner desires, but he had no wish to sleep with such lowly hick women who stumbled about drunkenly in the streets. He may have loved the female form and he may have been a player, but he was a player with class who knew that those kinds of women were beneath him. Besides, if a woman was passed out drunk then it proved no challenge in seducing her with soft spoken words and carefully timed touches. Not that many women were that difficult for him to seduce anyway.

It was shortly after his brief travels throughout Louisiana that Remy decided it was time for him to move on. Not only because of his boredom in regularity and nagging mother, but because his sisters had begun to despise his presence by making it nearly unbearable for him to stay in his mother's home for any extended period of time. His two older sisters, who were identical twins by the way, had played a very important role in raising their younger brother. When their mother was out working late, it was her two daughters that she placed her trust in to watch over her baby Remy. Yet unlike many horror stories about abusive older siblings, the worst thing his sisters ever did was to dress him up like a doll and play tea parties with him as though he really were one. Other than cause him to grow up being more in touch with his feminine side though, their actions had produced no other adverse effects. However as the years went by, the siblings had grown apart into a relationship that was more than a little spiteful. They hated his superficial personality and the way in which he used women on a daily basis. He hated that they teased men by dressing like tramps, but had decided to abstain from sexual activity until marriage. They were polar opposites with conflicting morals, and the constant verbal battles they all suffered from had begun to take their toll.

Added to his family problems, was the fact that he was a talented artist that sought recognition in any way he could. Growing up he had always been an exceptional painter and decent actor, something that had he won him several local awards due to how much time he dedicated to improving these skills. At some point he had even had a small art stand next to a group of African musicians on the populated sidewalks of New Orleans. However, even though he had gained a fair bit of money while painting portraits and acting out skits to big band tunes, it had not given him the fame he so desperately desired. Sitting in hot, humid weather while being eaten alive by mosquitos was bad enough in itself, but when it came with little to no recognition then it was just another factor to add into why he wanted to leave Louisiana.

It was on his twenty fifth birthday then that he finally decided to pack his things, and leave in the middle of the night without so much as a single goodbye to his family or friends. He had saved up more than enough money from his stall to catch a bus out of state, though he hadn't had to put much thought into where he wanted to go. He wanted to be a star after all, and what better place to go in order to achieve that goal than to travel straight to the home of stars itself? It was ironic too, but as a child, California had always seemed like a bright beacon of hope, and as such he could perfectly recall the time he had spent daydreaming in his school's study hall of sunny beaches, pristine mansions, and award ceremonies to honor his talent. How disappointed he was then, when he arrived to see that the supposed golden state was littered with dirty streets and smelly bums that begged him every which way he turned for money.

Knowing that he couldn't afford living in the more expensive cities like Hollywood and LA just yet, he settled on a small apartment complex above a pawn shop in Santa Monica. It wasn't the best place in the world, and to be honest it was a dump like everywhere else he had seen, but everyone had to start somewhere. For his first two years in California, Remy did his best to become recognized by accepting any gig his agent acquired, be that playing an extra background character in a television show or by promoting a product in some cheesy late night commercial. Nevertheless, he was repeatedly told that he wasn't cut for the entertainment industry and was thus forced to only small time roles. Eventually he got fed up with being treated like an untalented hack, and found that he had more luck in the fashion modeling business. Yet even modeling was ridiculously competitive, as there were thousands of other young men just like him (obviously not as gorgeous) that were aiming for the same job.

Now at the age of twenty eight, Remy had taken to relying on his paintings as a steady source of income. He was nowhere near as successful as he was in New Orleans though, and slowly but surely he was running out of money to even keep basic food products on the table. His dreams of fortune and fame seemed so much more accomplishable only three years ago, but now he was just a used up reject that had never even had the chance of being called a 'has been'. It was depressing, ego crushing, and most of all, frustrating, because it seemed like no one in the golden state had any idea of what true art was.

At least one good thing had come with his relocation though, and that was that the women of California were drop dead gorgeous, especially the ones who habited the beach. Their golden skin, perfect frames, and large breasts were enough to drive any man crazy, but he was lucky enough to have the skills to get any of them to follow him home. It was odd, but when he was completely intertwined with a woman it helped him to forget his worries. Even stranger still was that as he had aged he had come to respect the opposite gender as more than simple playthings, but as beautiful works of art that were meant to be treasured. When it came down to it though, making the decision to restrict himself to only a single person was a bit much for him. There was no woman out there that could hold down someone as free spirited like Remy Beaumont, and besides, his talents were pretty much limited to seducing women for a single night anyway, not in keeping them around as a girlfriend.

So with his nights filled with visiting numerous dance clubs, Remy killed his loneliness by partaking in meaningless sex. He might have tried doing something productive with himself, but truth be told he had few skills that he could put to use in an actual job. He could act, paint, persuade or seduce others, model clothing, give _excellent_ fashion advice, be stealthy, run fairly quickly, handle a gun, and of course, pleasure a woman. His skill at sneaking had come from slipping out of a married women's house after erotic encounters, while having the ability to run swiftly had developed under the experience of being caught by their husbands. He honestly couldn't fight for shit even if he wanted to, so running came naturally to him, especially when he absolutely detested any form of violence anyway. It was strange then that he even knew how to handle a gun, but when a mugging nearly costs someone their life it comes as no surprise that they might seek out classes in order to gain some means of self-defense. In this way, if Remy ever had to suffer a repeat of this past event, then he would be able to handle the situation without damaging or dirtying his elegant hands. That being said though, his skill set pretty much limited him to a very competitive industry of cut throat individuals who could care less about beauty and art, but more about making as much money as possible in the least amount of time. It was a sad truth to admit, but until his luck improved he was stuck being an unemployed nobody.

Tonight, like most nights, would be spent painting in his small apartment while listening to his favorite radio show, Deb of Night. Her voice was soothing to listen to when he worked, and the mystery of what she looked like in person certainly inspired more than one piece of artwork that he had completed while in California. One canvas in particular that had sold for a substantial amount of money had been directly based off his imaginings of her, with pale skin, raven hair, dark eyes, and a cigarette in hand. Currently her show was on hold for a number of commercials that he found just as enjoyable as Deb's show due to how hilarious they were. However, with upcoming elections, these humorous skits had turned into annoying ads that distracted and irritated him. He was a delicate being, and one whose creative juices could easily cease to run should something as frustrating as politics come along to ruin his concentration. Changing the station did no good either, as it seemed like every talk show was debating about who would make the better Senator or how what's his face said something rude this about his rival.

Sighing with irritation, Remy placed down his brush, stripped off his painter's smock, and shut the radio off all together. Just like that, his anticipated night of finishing his canvas had abruptly come to an end, and so it was with little thought that he resorted to his backup plan of club hopping. This reaction may have been overly emotional, but he needed to cool down by relaxing with a good drink and a beautiful woman. Less than three steps later and he was in his bathroom, dressing out of his usual splotched artist clothing and into something that might be considered much more stylish. After which he turned to comb out and smooth back his bright red hair, a color that he was not born with, but one that nevertheless looked fabulous on him. Shooting himself a flashy smile and wink in his mirror, the artist shut off his lights so that he could hurry out of his apartment and into the small dirt alley next to the complex. He might have bothered to grab a bite to eat before he left, but he knew that opening his refrigerator would only cause stomach gurgles and depression due to its emptiness.

When he hit the main street outside his apartment, he saw that to his left was Trip, one of his acquaintances who owned the pawn shop underneath Remy's room. The artist could still remember the first time the two had met, as it had been a rather awkward moment of attempting to purchase a gun without directly requesting one. He had heard the rumor that weapons were being sold cheaply at the pawn shop, but that there was a catch: they were being sold illegally without a license. Remy himself might not have been the smartest person on the block, but that moment had made Trip seem like he was lacking more than half his brain cells due to the over usage of drugs. Eventually he was able to purchase a gun though, and now whenever Remy made enough money from selling a painting or completing a commission, he would stop by. Sometimes his purchases centered on the occasional piece of stylish jewelry, but more often than not he bought marijuana, something that the artist believed helped him relax and become more creative. Other than that, the two didn't really know each other that well and as such rarely spoke.

"Why hello there, Trip," Remy greeted as he stepped out from the shadows of the alley. Unexpectedly, Trip jumped a few inches in shock as the keys in his hand fell to the ground with a soft clink.

"Jesus, man! You can't just sneak up on me like that," Trip gasped as he clutched his chest. "It's not cool." Remy shot his acquaintance a skeptical look, not because of how paranoid he was, but because he was dressed in such shabby attire. Add to that his messy dirty blonde hair and a new beard that looked like it hadn't been tended to in weeks, and it was surprising that the artist even associated with the young man.

"Jumpy much?" the artist joked, his thumbs hooked in the sides of his dark jean pockets. The pawn shop owned shook his head slowly and exhaled as he bent over to pick up the keys.

"You mean you haven't heard, dude?" he asked, "There's a freakin' serial killer loose right here in Santa Monica." The artist raised an eyebrow.

"You don't say? Well if I need any fruit loops that need to be drowned in milk, I'll know who to contact," Remy joked as he mentally high fived himself for being so clever.

"Uhm…" Trip mumbled as he fiddled with the lock on his store's door. Clearly Remy's pun had gone straight over the shop keeper's head, though this really wasn't that surprising.

"Never mind. You get any new shipments in lately?" he asked.

"Maybe. You get paid lately?" the pawn shop owner countered, as he shot Remy an annoyed expression. The artist said nothing as Trip sighed. "Look man, we're pals, but it ain't good for business if I keep lettin' ya buy on credit. It's nothing personal, but till you pay me back I can't let you purchase anything else."

"Tsk, tsk. After all the business I've gotten for you in the past? Seems like a dick move to make to a good friend, especially when there are plenty of other places that sell products like yours at half the price," the artist implied with crossed arms. They had had this conversation a dozen times in the past, and each time Remy had managed to persuade the shop keeper to see his way of things. It was almost like Trip frequently forgot that they ever shared the same conversation at least once a week, but with the drugs the kid was probably on, it was something else that just wasn't surprising anymore.

"Hey man, it ain't like that. I just need the money to keep this place open," Trip explained with troubled grey eyes.

"Doesn't seem like you're going to get it if you keep treating your customers and friends this way," Remy shrugged nonchalantly as he attempted to place special emphasis on the word friends. "Like I said, plenty of other places I can go to get what I need." Trip was a silent for a while, as it looked like he was mulling over the artist's words.

"Alright, Remy…" Trip finally said, "I can't let ya buy on credit, but long as you have the cash you can keep shoppin' in my store."

"Sounds like a deal. I'll be by later to pick some stuff up," Remy promised with a nod. Trip said nothing as he slipped inside his store, so the artist made his way to his first club of the night: The Asylum. Probably due to the dance club's name, most of the people he saw there were mentally deranged and seriously lacking in fashion skills. The men dressed in styles that were so last year, while the women preferred a more gothic approach to the clothing they wore. Heavy makeup and dark themes didn't really play to his preferences since natural beauty was much more to his liking, but every once in a while it was nice to switch things up a bit. Tonight though, as his light green eyes scanned the dancing masses, he found himself disappointed in what choices the club had to offer. This was mostly because the majority of people were men, but what made it especially bad was that the one woman he might have labeled as exceptionally beautiful was being crowded by nearly every person of the opposite gender. Seeing as how the blonde woman with pigtails wore a short plaid skirt and a very low cut shirt that propped up her pale breasts, it was no wonder then that the men were drooling over her schoolgirl act that left little to the imagination. As he watched her dance from across the room, he contemplated showing the young boys gathered around her how it was done. However, right as he stood up to do this, he saw that she had already chosen someone to take upstairs.

Feeling disappointed, Remy left The Asylum and decided that he might have more luck downtown. Santa Monica had few clubs anyway, and the few he knew about often lacked the type of women who had a very specific spark that lured him in. Trying to explain that spark in specific terms was more difficult than one might imagine, though his sisters had told him it was just an imaginary idea he had come up with to prevent himself from feeling guilty over searching for the biggest breasts, thinnest waist, and plumpest behind. Okay so he was a bit shallow with physical appearances, so what? It's not like such things were the only thing that mattered to him in a person, because there had been plenty of times he had actually denied attractive women due to their lack of creativity.

Jumping in a cab it took less than ten minutes for the artist to arrive at his intended destination, Club Confession. Once an impressive Catholic chapel, the building had been modernized into a popular night club, which like The Asylum, had most of its women leaning towards a darker style. Once again this wasn't necessarily bad, but tonight just wasn't a night that he was interested in sleeping with a wannabe goth. Every once in a while someone interesting might come in, though after a while it was clear that no one like that would be attending the club tonight. At least the bartender, Venus, was pretty hot, but he knew that her flirtatious behavior was nothing more than an image she put out to keep her customers coming back for more. Still, he would have loved nothing more than to peel off her fishnets and revealing clothing to get a good look at what little areas she kept hidden from the public. Such a fantasy would probably never be though, so in the meantime he would simply have to hope that someone might catch his attention.

Then, almost as if the good lord had heard his prayers, he saw what could only be described as the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen enter the club with a handful of assumed friends. She had a sort of Spanish flair to her, with lightly tanned skin, chocolate eyes, long flowing black hair, and a gleaming white smile that lay hidden behind plush ruby red lips. When she walked it was more like she glided gracefully across the room, as she maneuvered flawlessly through the crowd whose every head turned in her direction. Unable to keep his eyes off the beautiful stranger, Remy watched as she sat down in a booth opposite from where he currently was at the bar. Her friends, all of whom were relatively pretty but were nowhere in the same league as the mystery woman, quickly gathered around their group leader who was happily soaking up the attention they bestowed upon her.

"Who's that woman?" Remy curiously asked the bartender.

"Going to have to be a little more specific than that, darling. There are lots of women confessing their sins in here tonight." Venus answered in her thick English accent.

"Yeah, but only one of them has half the club drooling over her," the artist retorted as he gestured towards the mystery woman. "If it helps, she's the one wearing the sparkly gold dress that's snug in all the right areas."

"Ahh, spotted the charm of Isabella have you?" the bartender inquired as she mixed a drink. "Rumor has it she's a lot more dangerous than she looks. A real life black widow in how she kills her partners after she sleeps with them."

"Isabella, you say?" he questioned slowly, liking the way her name rolled off his tongue. It was a beautiful name for a beautiful woman who at this point, he just had to have. She had that spark he so desperately sought in his late night partners, but with her it seemed more prominent than any other person he had encountered.

"Dangerous I said," Venus reminded, a warning that went right over Remy's head as he was too busy staring at Isabella. "You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"

"If she's killed anyone than she would probably be sitting in a jail cell, not a bar," Remy pointed out as he downed the rest of his drink, "But if I'm wrong at least I'll be leaving this world in a fantastic manner." With a wink that made the bartender roll her eyes, the artist threw down a handful of change and stood up in order to make his way to the other side of the room. However, with each step he took, the more nervous he began to feel. Never in his entire life had a woman caused such feelings to emanate from deep within himself, and in a way he felt like his very purpose in life had faltered. He almost turned away because of this, but when her eyes met his, they almost seemed to silently beckon him with an untold promise of intense pleasure. Like a puppet being controlled by an invisible master, Remy felt himself being pulled in Isabella's direction, while she in return simply sat there with a small smile on her luscious lips. Soon he was standing directly in front of her with a blank expression, as her friends took to ogling him and giggling shyly. Slowly Isabella stood up and closed the distance between them in a seductive manner.

"I saw you watching me," she purred in a light Spanish accent, as one hand went to gently massage the base of his skull. "And I have to say…you're the most interesting person I've seen in here tonight." For a split second, the artist froze on what to say, an unusual event in that it seemed he was the one being seduced instead of the other way around. He quickly regained his composure though, and threw on a confident facial expression so that he would be in control of the situation.

"I could say the same about you, beautiful," Remy flirted, "I've been waiting all night for someone like you to show up, so please tell me, whatever can I do to make that pearly white smile I saw on your face earlier reappear?"

"Oooh a charmer," Isabella cooed excitedly before leaning in to speak gently in his ear, "Here's a hint lover boy: I'm a sucker for compliments…and dancing of course."

"Well then gorgeous, how's about we hit the dance floor?" the artist asked, putting on his most impressive and flashiest smile. With a nod and a smile of her own, Isabella took up one of his hands in order to lead him to the center of the room whose glass floor surrounded by stone tiles had been made to look like a bloody cross. The music, much like the two dancer's moves, started out slow and steady, as their bodies moved against each other with teasing caresses. However this soon changed when the music's tone became heavier, louder, and darker as Isabella soon proved that she was very skilled in a professional sense at exotically dancing with her partner. He had encountered remarkable dance partners in the past, which was probably the only reason he had any skill at doing so himself, but Isabella impressed him because dancing in six inch golden stilettos couldn't have been easy. As they continued to move, the rhythm of the current song felt like it was in sync with the artist's heartbeat, and with the way it flowed through his veins he easily began to feel himself losing himself to the music. Added to the pleasure he was receiving from Isabella's enthralling presence, and it was understandable that he wanted this moment to last forever between them. Almost as if Father Time himself was reading Remy's mind, the passage of time almost seemed to slow down as he noticed that nearly every pair of eyes in the club were on the pair.

"Everyone's watching us," Remy divulged with a pleased smile. Some might have said it was a flaw, but he absolutely loved attention, even if it were bad.

"Can you blame them?" Isabella asked as she grinded seductively against the artist. "We're the two best looking people here."

"And the most trendy ones too if I do say so myself," the artist added which caused Isabella to chuckle softly in agreement. "Which reminds me…have I told you how absolutely stunning you look in that dress?"

"No, but I still bet you would prefer to see me without it," she implied in a seductive tone. In a teasing manner she lifted the bottom of her already short dress to reveal her upper toned thigh, something that Remy eyed with intense anticipation but felt disappointed when she dropped it back down.

"Well of course! But I am anything if not a gentleman, Isabella," he stated.

"So the lover boy knows my name, but his remains a mystery to me," Isabella began, not seeming to care that he had knowledge of her. "I admit this places me at a disadvantage here."

"Remy Beaumont is the name, and one that you'll be screaming later I'm sure," the artist revealed in a husky voice.

"So passionate, I like it!" she exclaimed happily, "But let's see, Beaumont…Beaumont. That sounds French, but you don't have the accent. I can't see you as being Cajun, too much class and style. Perhaps…Creole?"

"Oh you're gooood," Remy complimented with an impressed smirk.

"Trust me, I can do a lot better than that, Remy. For instance, I know that your name means fun loving or remedy, and also that you're an artist," Isabella revealed as Remy's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Now how did someone so beautiful become so smart?" he enquired, disguising his shock with a flattering question.

"I'm not that smart, but I appreciate the gesture," she acknowledged, "I've just gotten good at reading people in my lifetime. It probably helps that nearly every guy I've ever been interested in has been creative in some way though."

"You make it sound like you're ancient, but you don't look a day over twenty four," Remy flattered. He may have been over doing it with the compliments, but she had said after all that she enjoyed such things. Additionally, when it came to most women he preferred to take things slow in order to savor the taste that came with seducing a woman. With Isabella though, he could barely keep his hands off her, and if he were any more obvious with his attraction than he probably would have been literally drooling.

"Careful lover boy, butter me up too much and you might not be able to handle the consequences," Isabella warned as she looked up at him through her long eyelashes.

"Well maybe I like my women having a dangerous side to them," the artist admitted as he proceeded to slowly drag his hand up her smooth leg and under her dress.

"Mmmm….not here," she said softly, pulling away from him slightly. "Do you have somewhere we can go?"

"Yeah, I have a place across town if you want to skip the small talk," Remy informed his soon to be nighty lover. He may have been playing it cool on the outside by maintaining his charm, but in the inside he was practically jumping with joy. The two of them obviously had a connection that went far beyond the physical, and as strange as it sounded, part of him could see himself engaging in an actual relationship with the young woman. She was beautiful, charming, smart, and sexy as all hell, which of course meant that she was the type of woman who to him was worth more than just casual sex.

"Excellent, let me just go tell me friends that I'll be leaving for the night," she responded giddily. Strutting back off to her friends, Remy watched as she informed the small group of her plans to leave. A few of them looked disappointed at having their group leader take off, while the rest simply remained silent. Then however, a previously unseen man with pale skin and grey eyes suddenly stood up from a nearby booth with an annoyed expression on his face. Sensing trouble, the artist closed in so that he could better hear what was going on.

"Isabella, I forbid it!" the well-dressed man with sandy blonde hair ordered, "You are young and foolish, so I can't expect you to understand why I've made this decision, but you _will _listen to me."

"Oh shut up, Kent," Isabella snapped with passionate fury. "You tramp around this town with countless women of low class, yet when I find someone with that creative fire in them to kill my loneliness, you say no? Well to that I say besa mi culo, kiss my ass!"

"Don't you curse at me in Spanish, young lady! You know damn well that what I do with women is different from what you intend to do with your Creole lover," Kent countered, "If you had permission from the Prince, than that would be one thing, but you don't." Maybe it was just because the music was so loud, but did he just hear the word 'Prince?' It seemed like an odd term to use, especially since it was one that could only be related to royalty. Was Isabella some sort of Spanish princess? If so, then damn did he score tonight!

"Screw the Prince, I don't answer to him!" she shouted. Unexpectedly, Kent raised his hand in order to strike Isabella with such force, that it caused a thin stream of blood to trickle from the corner of her cut mouth.

"How dare you insult LaCroix," Kent said with narrowed eyes, as Isabella stared up at him with her own shocked ones. "I may not like the man, but he is this city's leader and you owe him your allegiance as a member of the Camarilla!" City's leader? Camarilla? Remy had no idea what was going on, but he knew an abusive boyfriend when he saw one.

"Is there a problem here?" Remy demanded as he approached the small group. Isabella shot him an expression that probably meant that he should stay out of it, but there was no way in hell that he was going to walk away now. If this meant that she would hate his guts afterward, then so be it because if there was one thing he would never tolerate, it was violence against women.

"This is him?" Kent scoffed, "This is the boy who's driven you wild with lust? Why, he doesn't look like anything more than a penniless boy with a poor taste in clothing."

"Poor taste in clothing?" Remy repeated with a laugh, "That's hilarious coming from someone who's made the amateur mistake of wearing shoes with fur stitched into the sides of them."

"Idiot, these are Prada shoes!" he shouted angrily, throwing his arms in the air in a dramatic manner.

"Pfft, I don't care if they're Gucci. Those shoes with that jacket…?" the artist began as he pointed at each of those, "Uh-uh. Hideous." Isabella and a few of the other girls burst into laughter, though whether this was because of how angry Kent was or how funny Remy's statement actually was, he couldn't tell.

"Ugh! Someone get this passé fool out of my sight!" Kent screamed, his face bright red with anger as he turned to Isabella. "This boy is a disgrace to our clan and our way of life. As my childe I forbid you to go with him!" Remy's eyebrows shot up, because hearing that the two were related was quite surprising due to how different they looked from one another. Had Kent adopted her from Spain at some point, or had Isabella's mother been Spanish? More importantly, just how old was Isabella's assumed father, because from the looks of it he oddly didn't seem that much older than his daughter.

"I don't care what you say," Isabella began calmly with a confident smile on her face, "I'm going, and there's nothing you can do to stop me." Turning around she walked towards Remy, positioned his arm so that it was wrapped around her shoulders, and began to head towards the exit with her partner.

"Don't you walk out on me, Isabella!" he called after her.

"Irte a la mierda, Kent Alan Ryan!" Isabella shouted back in what could only be some form of curse words in Spanish. Moments later, the two were standing outside, though before they went any further, Remy stopped his partner in her tracks.

"Hey, you alright?" he asked with concern as he examined her lips gently with his hand. Mysteriously, it looked like the noticeable cut that he had seen earlier at the side of her mouth had vanished.

"I'm fine," she reassured with a small smile as she removed his hand from her face. "Thanks for caring though, lover boy. It's always nice to see someone willing to come to my rescue."

"Yeah well, call me old fashioned, but I believe hitting a woman is wrong," the artist declared, "What was all that about, anyway?"

"It's nothing, just Kent getting caught up in politics and blindly letting others lead his life," Isabella sighed. "He's a good man, a bit stubborn and stupid, but a good man nevertheless."

"Hmm, well okay. I have to ask, but is he your dad or something?" Remy queried with interest.

"Huh?" she asked with a confused expression. "What are you talking about?"

"Kent, he called you his child," the artist clarified.

"Oh, that. He's not my father per say, but over the years I've come to look up to him as one," she replied with a shrug, "But none of that matters right now. I want you, Remy, and only you. Don't concern yourself with things that don't matter; just focus on the now, focus on me."

"Don't have to tell me twice, beautiful," he smirked as he called for a cab and buried his curiosity. Remy would have loved to impress his partner with a multi-million dollar vehicle, but unfortunately this fantasy was only made real in his dreams. Surprisingly, Isabella didn't seem to mind though, as she used the cab situation to her advantage by straddling the artist's waist as soon as they were both seated inside the vehicle. Leaning in close to Remy, she kissed him with a passionate hunger that made him yearn for her even more than he already did. She wasn't shy with her style of kissing either, something that signaled to him that she must have developed much experience in her past with this sort of activity. Suddenly Remy felt the vehicle shift, as Isabella's head smacked into a nearby window.

"Ow!" she shrieked, "Keep your eyes on the road, jackass!" From up front the cab driver could be heard apologizing profusely, but nevertheless Isabella sighed irritably as she slid off Remy's lap and into her respective seat seeing as how she now knew that they were being watched. For the rest of the trip, the pair restrained themselves from their impulses the best they could by discussing some of their creative ventures. Remy talked about his artwork and how he desired to be a famous actor, while Isabella shared her aspirations of becoming the world's greatest fashion designer. They also took to sharing their philosophies on art and beauty, though since their ideas matched so well it was starting to seem like they may be soul mates.

Eventually they did arrive at Remy's apartment, though once they got inside he was surprised once again that Isabella didn't seem to care about how trashy it was. Normally he was never embarrassed at his living area, but since he had finally brought home someone worthy of being treated as a queen, it was understandable that he was more than a little nervous about impressing his midnight lover. Before he could even contemplate these thoughts further though, Isabella's lips came crashing down on his, as she directed him towards the bed. In an aggressive move she pushed him down on top of his uncovered mattress, so that his legs were hanging off the side of the bed. In one smooth movement she had lifted her dress above her head, and tossed it to the side in order to reveal a matching set of lacy panties and bra. After climbing on top of Remy, she immediately returned to kissing him, as he moved to unhook her bra.

"Uh uh uh, lover boy!" she teased, as she caught his hands with hers. "Foreplay is what makes a night worth remembering, wouldn't you agree?" The artist grinned as he pulled her back in for a kiss, though instead of meeting his lips, Isabella turned his head so that she could gently nibble at the crook in his neck. Groaning with delight, Remy closed his eyes and lost himself in the pleasure. Running his hands up and down her sides, Isabella let out a little giggle as she pulled away from his neck to whisper in his ears. "I want to show you something…"

Expecting Isabella to slip out of her underwear or something else even more erotic, instead Remy found his eyes shooting open in shock when he felt his lover bite down _hard_ on his neck. A warped sound that mirrored a shout of protest slipped from his mouth, as his face screwed up in pain and he tried to push off his Spanish lover. No matter how hard he tried though, Isabella had effectively pinned him to the mattress with a strength that he had not anticipated in one so seemingly delicate. Slowly but surely the artist began to feel light headed, as he realized that he was being drained of all his blood. His vision blurred, his hearing left him, and what came next would be anyone's guess because as embarrassing as it was to admit, Remy passed out.

Moments later, a bit of sound had begun to trickle back into the artist's ears. Yet something was off about it, because for some reason he could hear everything. The soft clicking from the clock on his wall, a rat that scampered down the outside hallway, the rain pitter patting on the window, and a few cars that went rushing by in the streets below were just a few examples of the sounds he heard. Something felt different with his body too, as he was filled with both incredible amounts of energy along with a ravenous hunger that made him want to raid his empty fridge. Gradually Remy opened his eyes to see that he could perfectly observe every little crack and flaw that was previously invisible to him in the ceiling above. Sitting up he reached for his neck, which had no puncture wounds or even the slightest hint of a bite wound. However, the thought of how his wound had healed up so quickly immediately left his mind when he began to glance around and see that everything in his apartment looked different from before. Not in the sense that someone had thrown out his old things and purchased new ones, but that somehow he was now able to notice little details that no human could ever detect through any normal means. It was literally like looking at the world in a brand new way, and he was beginning to enjoy it before he saw a fully clothed, yet just as gorgeous Isabella smiling at him from across the room in his chair.

Right as he was about to ask what had happened to him, his front door swung violently open. Without warning someone had jumped forward in order to stab him directly in the heart with what looked like a wooden stake, though because the artist was headed for blackout lane yet again, he couldn't be bothered with any other detail than it hurt like a motherfucker. Right as Remy's eyes began to close for the second time that evening, a thought occurred to him. Just what the hell kind of trouble had he gotten himself into this time?

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**Author's Note:** Wow was this chapter fun to write! I'm not sure how much my fans will like or dislike it, but for me personally, it's up there with my personal favorites. Like I said, Remy is a bit of an asshole when it comes to his ego and superficial personality, but deep down inside he's actually a pretty good guy. Not much more to say about this chapter, other than I hoped you liked how I portrayed certain well known characters. The next chapter will probably be through Valeska's POV, followed by a LaCroix centered chapter, and then finally, one with Nine's POV. As always, leave a review if you can and I'll see you all in the next chapter!


	33. Brutal Bloodlust

**Author's Note: **Okay, so I know it's been awhile since I updated my story, but I have a good excuse…kinda! Last week I went on vacation, and though I knew I would have internet, I had also expected to have more free time. Turns out this assumption was entirely wrong, and I spent more time relaxing than writing. Not a big deal considering the fact that everyone needs a break, but none the less I feel bad for not telling my fans in advance! Therefore I apologize for this, and hope that you enjoy this chapter, which follows Valeska through the beginning of VTMB and directly after the famous execution. Enjoy!

**Special Thanks:** Thank you to the reviewers of the last chapter who are Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, RavynKlaineSnapeMalfoy (Lucius's Mistress), and Topgallant. I was really worried about the last chapter, but I'm happy to see it was well received. =)

**Responses:** To FemKyuubi: I'm glad to hear you liked Remy. I had a lot of fun writing for his character, and though he's a superficial asshole now, you can't deny that a trait like that tends to go hand in hand with a Toreador lol. Bach will show up, though not for quite some time.

To RavynKlaineSnapeMalfoy: Remy is meant to be an ass, though he will get a little better later on when he starts to realize exactly what he's gotten into. I'm not sure how you pulled Ventrue out of his personality, since I left plenty of information on him being a Toreador in my author's notes. No worries though! My brain plays tricks on me all the time, so I completely understand. I was leaning towards Malkavian in the beginning, but writing through their perspective can be insanely difficult for me to do. I hope you'll still like his character though!

To Topgallant: Your review has made me very happy, thank you! I was really worried about how Remy might appear, but you nailed him in terms of personality. He really is a decent guy who has flaws like anyone else (in this case namely his ego), and he just adores women. In a way I was aiming for a male version of Velvet, but one who was more of the ultimate image of what Nosferatus despised in Toreador vampires (superficial, beautiful, elegant, etc) as well as a complete opposite of Valeska's character. I'm also glad you enjoyed Isabella and Kent, because writing for them was just as fun as Remy was to write for.

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**Chapter 32 Brutal Bloodlust **

"Tonight, Miss Latimer, you're going to attend an execution," LaCroix announced nonchalantly. Valeska froze in her seat as the thought that she was being escorted to her death flittered briefly across her mind as being a very real possibility. Clearing her throat, the ghoul spoke up.

"An execution, sir?" she inquired innocently, hoping that he might clarify. "Whose?"

"The Toreador childe of Kent Alan Ryan, Miss Isabella Rivera," Prince LA responded as Valeska let out a quiet sigh of relief. She didn't really think it would be her head on the chopping block, but one could never be too careful when dealing with someone like LaCroix.

"What'd she do to deserve an execution?" Valeska asked with curiosity.

"She violated the Third Tradition by siring a childe without my permission," he replied, "Normally an illegal embrace is discovered several nights after it has occurred, but we were fortunate enough to receive an anonymous tip of her intentions."

"Alright, but don't you think that killing them both is a little…extreme?" she offered. "Can't they just be let off with a warning, like a slap to the wrist or being grounded to their havens for example?" She knew neither of the vampires in question, and as such she cared little for their ultimate fate. However, her opinion on executing two people for something so seemingly innocent remained.

"No," the Ventrue vampire bluntly stated, not bothering to look at her as he spoke.

"Uhm…why not?" Valeska queried. It was so rare that her boss uttered a sentence that was less than five words, so it was no surprise then that she was somewhat taken back by his simple response.

"Because, Miss Latimer," he began with an irritable sigh, "Population control is a serious issue in the world of vampires. If there are too many of my kind in a single area then it threatens the Masquerade, but have too few and the Camarilla is left vulnerable to outside threats. As this city's Prince then, it is my duty to balance these numbers by assuring that those in my domain follow Camarilla Tradition. Individuals who break these laws are well aware of the consequences, and thus, must be made an example of."

"Can't argue with logic like that I suppose…" the ghoul agreed slowly, "But why would anyone risk breaking vampire law if the punishments are so clear cut? I mean, at least with humans there's always the chance of getting off scotch free with a good lawyer, or just going to jail instead if they don't. When someone's life literally on the line, you'd think they'd be a little more careful..."

"You would think so, yes, but then you would be failing to take into account the recklessness that is Anarch society," Prince LA illuminated.

"The Anarchs, sir?" Valeska inquired, hoping that she might elicit a rant of some kind from her boss. Normally such a move would be foolish in that it might bring forth his dangerous temper, but any kind of information she could get on his opinion of the sect would be useful for determining what connection he had to Nines, if any. Additionally this would also tell her how much trouble she could expect if he ever found about the intimate encounter she had shared with the Brujah biker.

"A sect of foolhardy and often young vampires who believe that by rebelling against the Camarilla that they are somehow taking a stand against big government politics and allegedly corrupt individuals," LaCroix explained, waving his hand as he spoke, "Surely Mercurio has already told you all of this before."

"Oh he has, but he tends to take a neutral stance on presenting information," she responded, "It's not a bad thing, but for future reference I would like to hear your opinion on them so that I can better align my thoughts in a similar manner."

"A more than reasonable request, though I believe my summarized explanation of their group should serve as a good place to start in terms of how one in the Camarilla should observe them," he stated simply as he watched his ghoul carefully. Had he caught on to her blunt fishing for information, or was he just being his naturally paranoid self? Judging by his nearly emotionless expression it was much too hard for her to tell, though she could attribute this to his centuries of practice in preventing others from reading his intentions. Damn vampires.

"Okay, I'll be sure to view them in the same light then, sir," Valeska said as she tried to mask the defeat she felt in her voice. Then an idea hit her, and though executing it held a slight degree of danger to it, anything she said to the Prince was technically like playing with fire anyway. "Forgive me for my ignorance, but I have to ask…are the Anarchs a threat to the Camarilla?"

"Of course not!" LaCroix answered with a short, almost forced laugh. "They are no more capable of simple table manners than they are of a successful revolution." When her boss spoke he avoided eye contact, and in his voice was an undeniable amount of doubt. Both of these traits were highly unusual for the confident Prince, so naturally Valeska decided to press the issue.

"You don't sound so sure, sir," the ghoul continued as her vampire boss raised an eyebrow.

"Perhaps, but answer me this then, Miss Latimer: why are you so interested in the Anarchs all of a sudden?" the Prince questioned with suspicion.

"I'm just a little confused as of late when it comes to vampire politics," she responded, knowing that this statement was more than truthful; vampire politics were _very_ confusing after all. "Politics in general has never been my strong suit, and even human affairs throw me for a loop sometimes. Add in creatures of the night that are split up into vague groups and my brain simply short circuits." Her second set of sentences was partially a lie, but feeding LaCroix's ego at this point by letting him answer her queries was the only way she was going to get information without directing sucking up to him.

"I see. Well, any group that opposes the Camarilla is technically a threat," Prince LA finally revealed after a short moment of silence, "Fortunately many Anarchs, like the Sabbat, tend to exterminate themselves on their own due to their impulsive and animalistic desires that stem from their inner Beast." He paused. "However, the Anarchs here in LA pose a problem because of how compelling their assumed leader, Nines Rodriguez, can be for ignorant fledglings and simple fools."

"Nines is their leader?" she exclaimed, unable to keep the shock in her voice hidden from her boss. Everything made perfect sense now with how the Brujah had reacted earlier, and now she was just trying to stay calm with the fact that less than an hour ago she had almost slept with one of her boss's primary enemies. Unfortunately she was doing a poor job at disguising this though, and as expected the Prince had taken notice.

"Yes, Nines appears to be their ringleader…" LaCroix repeated slowly as he stared her down with interest, "Have you made his acquaintance then?"

"Uhm…no," the ghoul lied, trying to keep her eyes staring into his cold and calculating ones, "I just heard about him from Mercurio, and it's surprising that someone like that is even capable of being their leader is all."

"Hm," the Ventrue vampire noted with narrow eyes, obviously not buying into what she said. "I find it ha-"

"We're here," the chauffeur interrupted with his announcement.

"Ah, then we shall continue this discussion later," LaCroix informed his ghoul who nodded to signal that she understood. She couldn't deny the fact that she felt a great deal of anxiety right about then with what they might discuss later, since for all she knew, he was already well aware of where she had been that night and exactly what she had done. Surely he would have reacted with more anger if he knew about Nines and herself, but she had taken notice that he liked to keep certain things to himself until he could use them as blackmail. Additionally, it was clear that he enjoyed playing with his prey before sinking his teeth into them at the most opportune moment (sometimes quite literally). This image had her once again connecting the Prince to that of a lion, though whether seeing him as the king of the jungle was because of his ferocity or his royal title, she had no idea.

When the chauffeur opened Valeska's door, the ghoul stepped outside to find that she was standing at the back of the closed theater she used to see often on her midnight walks. She had always assumed that this was due to renovations or something equally boring, but knowing that they were currently there for an execution made her wonder if that was what it had always been used for all along. It was still an odd place for such an event to take place though, but perhaps this had been done on purpose to allow the audience to fool themselves into thinking the execution was only part of a drama production. Death should have been something that every vampire was familiar with, but who was she to argue with the logic of century old creatures?

Trailing closely behind her boss, Valeska was lead to a door that LaCroix loudly knocked on three times. Gradually it opened to reveal a well-dressed male that by now Valeska knew was probably a Ventrue since he just sort of had that aura that she had grown accustomed to with their clan.

"Right this way, sir," the presumed Ventrue gestured as the Prince simply nodded and moved past him. As they walked down a narrow hallway, LaCroix's associate explained the situation. "As commanded, the guilty individuals have been detained by your Sheriff and are waiting center stage for your arrival. Also, you'll be pleased to know that more than half of the surrounding area's citizens have answered your summons to watch you pass judgment on Isabella and her illegitimate childe."

"Very well, you may leave my presence, Francis," Prince LA ordered as his associate said nothing and left. Turning to Valeska, LaCroix opened his mouth to give her a command of her own. "Find a seat in the theater, keep to yourself, and take notes. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Valeska acknowledged, with a small, appreciative smile. She absolutely despised when he went into great detail about how important it was that she maintain the correct image of a Ventrue Prince's ghoul, so she was more than pleased that his order was short, sweet, and to the point. After watching Prince LA walk away (observing with irritation that she was distracted momentarily by the way his hips unintentionally swayed as he moved), the ghoul navigated her way to yet another door. Slipping silently through it she almost ran straight into the Brujah vampire she had seen earlier, Smiling Jack.

With a cigar in his mouth, Jack said nothing as he smirked slightly at her and continued leaning against one of theater's pillars. It was deliberately meant to be an intimidating gesture, and seeing as how he was undoubtedly an Anarch, and she was dressed like a Camarilla grunt, it was no wonder then why he did this. Averting her eyes to the ground, Valeska hurried past Jack, and found an empty seat near the back of the theater. On any normal occasion that involved a performance of some kind, she probably would have been disappointed by the fact that she didn't have front row seats. Seeing as how this was an execution though, she was just happy to not be sitting in the 'splash zone' that was unsurprisingly mostly empty.

As she waited for the morbid play to begin, the ghoul took to glancing around the dim theater in an attempt to see if she recognized anyone. There were about twenty individuals, give or take, and more than half of them were people she had met at Grout's dinner party. Scattered about on the left side was an angry Imalia, another male Nosferatu that looked bored, Velvet Velour plainly dressed in lingerie that left little to the imagination, Gary Golden who sat directly behind Therese Voerman in the first row (probably in an attempt to creep her out), and a handful of others who she didn't know like an older suave looking gentleman. She wasn't sure how many of them belonged to the Camarilla, but it seemed likely because of how the right side was encompassed almost entirely of assumed Anarchs. Nines Rodriguez, Damsel, Skelter, and a few other unknown faces that looked like they were from the Brujah clan were just a few examples of who she saw. It made her contemplate if they segregated themselves from the rest on purpose or if it was mandatory. Up in the balconies were also a few people, but the only one she personally knew was Maximillian Strauss, who sat by himself with his eyes glued to the curtained stage.

Suddenly, as if Valeska really were watching a play, the dark red curtains of the theater opened to reveal the stage and silence the soft murmuring throughout the room. Kneeling in the middle of the stage were two pale skinned individuals, both of which who were undoubtedly beautiful as well as stylishly dressed. The woman who the ghoul knew as Isabella, had tan skin, big round eyes, full lips, a model's body, and a face full of defiance. Next to her was the presumed childe, and though he wasn't Valeska's type, she couldn't deny that his appearance had a certain charm to it. His symmetrical face in particular was quite attractive in that it had both male qualities like a strong chin, but also feminine traits like high cheek bones and long eyelashes. As handsome as he was though, it was clear that he couldn't mask the terrified look in his face as his eyes kept nervously darting back and forth throughout the crowd.

The ghoul almost felt bad for him, but like the Prince had told her, all individuals in the Camarilla were supposed to be aware of the laws in vampire society. Still, this guy didn't look like he had a single clue as to what was going on. Had he been turned against his will? If so, wasn't that a bit unfair to he who was completely innocent? Before she could further study the two vampires whose hands were bound behind their backs, Prince LaCroix appeared and casually began to walk towards the center of the stage with his Sheriff following closely.

"Good evening," LaCroix began with a calm expression and a confident voice, "My fellow Kindred, my apologies for disrupting any business or interfering with prior engagements you may have had this evening." For a moment he stopped in his tracks on the right side of the stage as he clasped his hands in front of him, but soon after he began to make his way to the opposite side as he continued his speech. "It's unfortunate that the affair that gathers us here tonight is a troubling one. We are here because the laws that bind our society – the laws that are the fabric of our existence – have been broken."

As the Prince continued pacing the stage and speaking about how he was the only one who could grant the permission of siring a childe, Valeska went back to examining the audience to see how they were handling his speech. Unsurprisingly, the Anarchs didn't look too happy, and if it hadn't been for their whispering then the theater would have been dead silent. A few vampires seemed interested in what the ghoul's boss had to say, like Therese who was practically seated on the edge of her seat in anticipation. However, most of the crowd looked on with boredom, irritation, and impatience that signaled that they just wanted to get back to their evenings rather than sit through what they probably considered to be a waste of time. Still, some seemed more content to interact with the others in the crowd, like V.V. who had decided to blow a kiss toward a still uninterested Tremere Regent.

"It pains me to announce the sentence, as up to tonight I considered the accused to be a loyal and upstanding citizen of our organization," the Ventrue vampire continued as his ghoul turned her attention back to his presence, "But as some of you know, the penalty for this transgression is death." The entire theater fell silent, and if Valeska hadn't known that vampires didn't breathe in the first place, then she might have been able to make the impressive statement that the building was breathless. "Know that I am no more a judicator than I am a servant to the laws that govern us all. Let tonight's proceeding serve as a reminder to our community that we must adhere to the code that binds our society, lest we endanger all of our blood." Kneeling slightly next to Isabella, the Prince looked directly into the female vampire's eyes and spoke in a somber tone. "Forgive me"

"Fuck you!" Isabella snapped as she spit in Prince LA's face. Looking somewhat startled, LaCroix took a step backwards and calmly wiped his face cleaned with the handkerchief in his pocket. Isabella said nothing else, but the way in which she glared up at him with a furious expression said more than any set of words ever could.

"Let the penalty commence," Valeska's boss announced as he moved to a safe distance away from the accused. One of the vampires that had been holding Isabella's neck in place also stepped quickly away, but only after roughly forcing her head down. Just like the night Valeska had witnessed the Sheriff execute the Sabbat member, she watched as the towering giant brought his sword high above his head before swiftly slamming it down over the guilty party's head. Combined with the apparent sharpness of his weapon and the force that he was using, Isabella's head popped right off her shoulders as it bounced only once on the stage before turning into ash. At the same time, her body slumped and also turned to ash, making the whole twisted scene look almost unreal.

The ghoul herself wasn't too disturbed by having made to watch the beheading, especially since it was a clean death that had little blood spray. Yet all around nearly everyone seemed to have a different opinion on what they had seen, with more than half of them appearing horrified or disgusted for some reason. The illegitimate childe's eyes were as wide as saucer plates while Velvet had even looked away completely, but at least their actions made sense because the fledgling was up next to be killed and the dancer had an overly sensitive nature. For the rest who were literally harbingers of death though, it was a little confusing. Were they upset because they had witnessed the death of someone they might have known, or was it because they were truly disturbed by seeing someone murdered right before their very eyes? Since Valeska was still relatively new to this life she had no real way of knowing how vampires viewed life and death. Naturally it would be different from a mortal's perspective, but seeing as how she wasn't a vampire herself, her assumptions that these topics would be looked at indifferently might have been incorrect.

"Which leads to the ill-begotten progeny," Prince LA went on with his face completely devoid of emotion. It was astonishing to watch him get right back down to business, but then again, he was from a clan where such traits were often practiced and highly prized. "Without a sire, most childer are doomed to walk the Earth never knowing their place, their responsibility, and most importantly, the laws they must obey. Therefore, I have decided that -"

"THIS IS BULLSHIT!" a voice screamed from the crowd as the entire audience, including Valeska, looked over to find the source. Literally being held back by his friends was a furious Nines that looked like he wanted to jump up on the stage and beat the living daylights out of LaCroix. A few surprised gasps and an excited murmuring overtook the crowd, as the Prince stared into the angry eyes of the Anarch leader. This moment only lasted for a few seconds or so, but it was quite obvious that the two deeply hated one another. Unlike with how Sebastian had intimidated the Aleister Grout into submission only a night ago, it was obvious that such a move would not work on Nines who was probably in the same tier as the ghoul's boss. They were both charismatic leaders after all, who had plenty of people they inspired to follow their example and fight for the beliefs that they held close to their hearts. Of course Nines seemed to be a bit more thoughtful to those around him, and LaCroix was more into his position for the power it offered, but the fact that they were more similar than not remained. This was an opinion she would definitely have keep to herself though, because she doubted either one of them would enjoy hearing themselves being compared to a pompous aristocrat or a rebellious biker.

Prince LaCroix stood silent for a short moment, as his eyes traveled across the room in order to observe the audience who had some of its participants standing up in agreement with Nines' statement. Sebastian's eyes met his ghouls for a split second, and as stupid as it was to do, Valeska found herself giving him an encouraging smile. Sure she may have despised him, but his job couldn't have been easy when nearly the entire vampire population of LA would be out for his blood should he make the wrong decision. He was a politician, and as such he had to play the game of politics by keeping the peace with his people, but at the same time achieving his personal goals. Looking away from his ghoul and down at the ground, she could tell he was deeply contemplating this exact thought.

"If Mister Rodriguez would let me finish," the Ventrue vampire stated with a hint of annoyance, "I have decided to let this Kindred live." Immediately the vampire childe on stage was released as his bonds were cut loose and he leaned forward with relief. "They shall be instructed in the ways of our kind and be granted the same rights. Let no one say I am unsympathetic to the plights and causes of this community. I thank you all for attending these proceedings, and I hope their significance is not lost. Good evening."

With that the fledgling was helped to his feet and escorted back stage by the handful of unknown vampires that had previously restrained him. LaCroix remained on the stage with his hands behind his back, presumably to speak to anyone who might seek his audience. No one seemed interested in doing this though, and slowly but surely everyone made their way to the exit. Unfortunately everyone that left had their eyes wandering over to Valeska, though she assumed this must have been because she was probably the only human in the entire building. It made her feel incredibly nervous and awkward, but nowhere near as bad as when Nines spotted her. At least she was sitting alone so that the Anarch leader would still only have a vague idea as to who her master was.

"Miss Latimer!" LaCroix called as her hopes and dreams of remaining anonymous were completely destroyed. "By my side if you would."

"Coming, sir…" Valeska mumbled as she stood up. She had planned to avoid all eye contact with Nines, but as she made her way to her boss, her eyes met with the Brujah's nonetheless. He didn't look too surprised, but at the same time he also looked somewhat disappointed if not still upset. Whether this anger was directed at her, her boss, or even himself, she had no idea, but it didn't stop her from feeling guilty. She had really enjoyed the time she spent with the rebel leader, but now that he knew of her allegiances it was doubtful that he would ever speak with her again. The Last Round wasn't too bad of a place to hang out at either, but going in there for a second time would probably result in getting her ass kicked. She didn't know the Anarchs too well to be sure of that assumption, but even though they seemed somewhat reasonable, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Turning away from Nines, the ghoul found her way up to the stage and stopped next to her boss. In his face was a mild degree of curiosity and suspicion, though that was probably there because he had observed the way in which she had looked at the Anarch leader. All this did was make her wish even more so that she had averted her eyes from her almost lover, but it couldn't be helped now. Saying nothing, the Prince gestured her to follow him and so she did while accidently kicking up some of Isabella's ashes in the process.

"Wait with my Sheriff outside, I need to speak with the fledgling," Prince LA ordered, before leaving her alone with his guardian. Staring up at the expressionless Sheriff, Valeska gave him a weak smile before following the massive giant out to her boss's Rolls Royce. As she waited for him to return, she let her mind wander to random contemplations. The main one that seemed more prominent than the others was what had caused the Ventrue Prince to spare Isabella's childe. Surely it was because he had wanted to please the masses, but the possibility that he had done it out of mercy couldn't be thrown away so easily. Yet at the same time this was a trait that didn't suit him at all, especially when he had flat out told her in advance that his decision had been to kill them both. No, his choice had been based on winning support from around the city and that was his only reason; trying to convince herself of anything else was pointless.

Staring up at the night sky that was polluted with smog and city lights, the ghoul was hit with a sudden feeling of dread. It didn't really make any sense considering that she wasn't in a negative situation, but nevertheless, the feeling that something horrible was about to happen plagued her anxious mind. Had LaCroix found out about her and Nines, or was it something even worse than that? The sound of a slamming door reached Valeska's eyes, as she turned to see her boss, who besides being irritated, looked absolutely fine. Right as he was about to open his mouth to speak though, the unexpected sound of gunfire shooting through flesh met her ears. The Prince's face looked shocked for a moment, before what could only be pain appeared on his face as he fell to his knees.

Immediately Valeska's eyes fell to his abdomen as she realized that it was riddled with bullets and decorated with fresh streams of dark blood that were easily seen through his white shirt. Perhaps it was just because she was a complete idiot, but without any form of hesitation she rushed forward to shield him. She had no idea where the shots had been fired from, or even if she would be killed next for protecting the Prince, but she didn't care. The sound of a few more shots being fired reached the ghoul's ears, but only one of them actually hit her as the stinging sensation that came from her upper arm region had her looking over to her arm to see that the bullet had luckily only grazed her left shoulder.

Knowing that the two of them were still in the open and vulnerable to attack, Valeska quickly hauled LaCroix to his feet and directed him towards his car while nursing her tender shoulder the best she could. As she helped him, she observed that the chauffeur had exited the vehicle and was holding an assault rifle of some kind as he returned fire in the presumed direction of where the assault had been launched. Meanwhile, the Sheriff had jumped into action as well as he ran forward with his blade and decapitated a previously unseen attacker in one fell swoop. Another swing, another burst of fiery ashes, and more gunfire from the driver occurred as the ghoul finally reached the car.

Flinging open one of the back doors, she roughly shoved the Prince into his Rolls Royce more than she did gently place him inside, but they were in the middle of a battlefield after all. The gunfire began to die down a bit, but before Valeska could slide in next to her boss, she saw the Sheriff approach her and peer into the back of the vehicle with an unexpected expression of concern. At that moment though, the ghoul's expression matched the bodyguard's since the Ventrue was steadily fading in and out of consciousness while what little color he had was draining away from his snow white face. It made her worry even more so when she noticed that he wasn't healing either. Weren't all vampires supposed to have the ability to heal relatively quickly? Why wasn't he then?

"Sir!" Valeska shouted, hoping she might wake him by shaking his body. "Sir, please wake up!"

Her boss didn't move an inch, and the worst part about that was that she wasn't even sure if he was still alive. Vampires didn't breathe after all, so it was hard to tell whether his motionless form was because he had simply passed out or because he was dead. Glancing around anxiously, she spotted a few more of the attackers approaching from the shadows as they brandished guns and forced Valeska to take cover behind the car door in order to protect herself. It was then that she knew she had to make a lightning fast decision, but what should she do? Stay and fight? Run away? Leave the Sheriff behind to handle the situation? What would LaCroix do?

"Sheriff, I need you to stay behind and cover us! The Prince has been injured and he needs to get out of here or he's going to die!" Valeska ordered over the deafening sound of gunfire that had started back up. The Sheriff nodded and turned around so that he could presumably return to his slicing and dicing of the enemies that foolishly thought they could take him on. "Driver, get us the hell out of here!" Hoping that the chauffeur had heard her, the ghoul moved her boss over and slid in next to him before slamming the door shut. Mere seconds later, the driver entered the vehicle and started the car up. A few stray bullets hit the glass, causing Valeska to bend over to avoid being shot, only to realize that the windows were fortunately bullet proof.

"Where should we go, ma'am?" the chauffeur asked, his voice full of worry.

"Why the hell are you asking me that? Just get us out of here!" Valeska screamed as he nodded and took off at a high speed. Turning her attention to the extremely pale Prince, she put her hand on his chest and pulled it back to see it coated in his crimson fluids. Panic exploded inside of her as she realized just how much blood he had lost and was still losing as his the seat under him was covered in blood as well. "Damn it! Why isn't he healing?!"

"He's not healing? How many times did he get shot?" the driver questioned. Moving her hands across his upper body, Valeska counted at least different eight bullet holes.

"Eight!" she answered, the tone of her voice clearly displaying the panic she felt.

"Do you know when he last fed?" he asked as he kept his eyes on the road the entire time. Luckily it didn't seem like anyone had followed them from the theater, but the ghoul was made sure to stay on high alert just in case.

"Uhm…" the ghoul mumbled trying to think back to when she had last seen him drink blood. Obviously she wasn't around him 24/7, so how was she to know what his feeding schedule was like? Grout's dinner party had been yesterday, but she hadn't even seen him partake in the appetizer glasses then, so for all she knew it had been several days since he had fed. "I really don't know!"

"He probably needs blood," the chauffeur announced calmly. Valeska tensed up, not because she would have to be the one to give him blood, but because his life was literally now in her hands. Instinct had previously forced her to rush forward and defend her boss, but now that she wasn't in danger of being killed herself, she had the option of taking her time with her decision. She could give in to what her boss would want her to do in the situation, or she could completely abstain from saving his life in order to regain her freedom. Choosing the latter would no doubt have dangerous consequences from the vampire community, but if she was quick in fleeing the state, she might be able to pick up her grandma and go into hiding. If not then at least she would die a free woman.

Staring down at the Prince, Valeska felt a sudden rush of conflicted feelings. She hated the man probably more than anyone else in her entire life, and such an opinion was hardly one that needed to be justified. He had used her, tricked her, flat out lied to her, and then finally enslaved her through emotional blackmail by threatening to kill the only person she loved. At the same time though, and probably because of the blood bond they shared, she couldn't hide the fact that she deeply cared for him. Seeing him in any kind of peril or pain was devastating for her, since in some weird way, whatever he felt was something she would suffer too. Closing her eyes, the ghoul took a deep breath, made her decision, and tried to bury the hatred she had for herself.

"Do you have any kind of sharp object…?" Valeska softly asked the driver. Almost as if he already knew what she would choose to do, the chauffeur passed back a switchblade. Opening the blade, she stared at it for a brief moment, and then quickly brought it across her wrist. Wincing slightly at the pain the deep cut brought, she moved to position the Prince across her lap in order to more easily prop up his head with her other hand. His hair was surprisingly soft, and if it hadn't been for the current situation she would have had a hard time in restraining herself from running her fingers through it. Prying open his jaw slightly, she brought her dripping wrist to his mouth which allowed her blood to slowly fill his mouth. Expecting her blood to overflow because he wasn't swallowing it, LaCroix's lips suddenly latched onto her wrist. His eyes remained closed, but he brought one of his hands up to hers in order to keep her from removing it.

"Mmmh…" Prince LA murmured weakly as he continued drinking his ghoul's blood. Glad to see that her boss was awake, Valeska smiled and began to stroke his hair gently. It was an intimate move that she would have never, ever done had he been fully conscious, but he probably wouldn't remember this anyway so what was the harm? It wasn't like she was taking advantage of him or anything, though the idea of him doing that to her made her blush. Noticing that the Ventrue vampire had opened his eyes, the ghoul removed her fingers from his hair and attempted to remove her wrist as well since she was starting to feel a tiny bit light headed. However, his mouth remained latched onto it as if he were a blood sucking leech…so to speak.

"Uhm, sir…I think you've had enough blood," the ghoul pointed out, still trying to pull away. The harder she tried to move though, the tighter her boss's grip was on her hand. "Sir, stop!" Beginning to panic that he might drain her dry, she contemplated stabbing with him with the driver's knife that lay next to her on the seat. Judging from his bullet holes that had already begun to close, she knew that a simple knife wound would heal just as easily. Grabbing up the blade she aimed for his shoulder and brought it down. However, before her weapon could make contact with his flesh, he reacted suddenly by grabbing her wrists with a single hand, pinning her down on the seat cushions so that he could position himself over her restrained body, and finally, roughly turning her head in order to access her bare neck. In one quick, smooth movement he brought his lips to her neck and sank his fangs into it.

An odd noise slipped from Valeska's mouth that sounded halfway between a scream of pain and a plea for him to stop. He was draining her of her blood fast, and the idea that she might die filled her mind with fear. Squirming helplessly under his tight hold on her, she wondered what was causing him to act like a starving bloodthirsty animal. He had already drunk a generous amount of her blood from her wrist, so what other reason would he have to commit such a monstrous act? Then, an alarming realization hit her. He was frenzying, which meant that any degree of self-control he might have possessed, had gone completely out the window.

"He's frenzying!" Valeska cried weakly to the chauffeur. Glancing back, the driver's eyes grew wide, but as much as the ghoul needed his help, his eyes returned to the road as he sped up the vehicle. The ghoul desperately tried to signal for his attention again, but she could feel herself slowly slipping out of consciousness. The chauffeur was probably just going to let her die, and for what? To allow a selfish individual to greedily drown himself in his employee's blood even though he was obviously going to make a full recovery? Closing her eyes she felt her body go numb; a sign that she knew by now meant that she was going to pass out. It wasn't like she had a choice in the matter either, and as her consciousness drifted away, the last coherent thought that entered her mind was that at least she had saved the Prince's life. Such a selfless way to go was more than anyone could ever ask for, and even more so for the ghoul because her actions had been done out of some form of twisted love.

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**Author's Note: **Ahh poor Valeska, always throwing herself in harm's way for her semi beloved master. At least an action like that won't go unnoticed by LaCroix, but as to how he will react? Who knows for sure, because I'm still deciding on that lol. My next chapter will be a Nines' chapter, though currently I'm caught up with what kind of details I want to include with that one. Afterwards we'll return to Valeska and LaCroix and see how things turn out for the frenzying Prince. Stay tuned, and drop a review if you can on how you liked or disliked the chapter, any ideas you have, etc. Thanks!


	34. Baron of Angels

**Author's Note:** Yay faster update! This chapter was quite the pain in the ass for me to write for, mostly because I've gotten so used to writing for the other characters that I might have made Nines sound too formal. If that happens then I apologize, but LA's Baron always struck me as an intelligent person, so hopefully it will work. Anyway, this chapter gives some insight into Nines' life, how he viewed some of the events that Valeska coincided in, as well as some backstory. Enjoy!

**Special Thanks:** Thank you very much to DiamondGirlie for faving my story, and to the reviewers of the last chapter who are Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, RavynKlaine, and aberdeenkev. It is very, VERY much appreciated when I get feedback of any kind! =)

**Responses: **To Naruto Loves FemKyuubi: You are definitely right about LaCroix being upset with himself for frenzying, because doing such a thing is usually seen as a weakness. There's a reason he frenzied, though it won't be explained until the next chapter.

To RavynKlaine: Haha, I speak in riddles sometimes too! xD The Ventrue and the Toreador can easily be mixed up because of how they rely on their social graces to get them out of trouble, rather than fighting head on. They're also both very manipulative and prefer the finer things in life, so it's understandable with how you might confuse the two. I'm glad to hear you liked how Valeska through herself in harm's way for her master, and the reason the Sheriff obeyed her is something that might be explained later.

To aberdeenkev: No problem on not reviewing, life gets the best of us quite often. I'm glad that you too also enjoyed seeing Valeska willing to sacrifice herself for the Prince, because even though he has been a jerk to her, some part of her deeply cares for him nevertheless.

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**Chapter 33 Baron of Angels **

Nines Rodriguez was having one hell of a night, though not in the positive sense that usually came with using such an expression. Honestly, a more accurate way of stating how his evening had unfolded would be to say that it was probably one of the most fucked up nights he had experienced in a while. It hadn't started out that way either, but being in a city like LA pretty much made it so things could go from not too shabby to the apocalypse within minutes. No one knew this about Los Angeles more than Nines, though that was probably because he had been born and raised there.

That being said, he was probably one of the few persons still alive that could accurately state that he had watched the area start out as nothing more than a dusty old town, only to observe that in a few decades time those same dirt roads had been paved with asphalt to make way for the sprawling city of angels. Due to the loyalty he had for the city, he often felt that his existence was to live and figuratively breathe for this hometown of his. Rare was it that he ever left the Free State as well, and though he had done some traveling with his sire in the past, he always found himself returning home soon after out of the nostalgia he had for it.

LA was far from being a perfect place though. Everyone knew that, and trying to say differently would just result in sympathetic laughter for an ignorant dumbass that had yet to learn the ways of the world. Like any city its air was polluted, its homes were crowded, its streets smelled of piss, and it was loud as all hell, yet some of those downfalls could be considered good things if one just focused on changing their perspective. Becoming a vampire definitely helps with that, as though crowds had once overwhelmed a younger version of Nines, now it meant that there was not only plenty of food, but it was easy to find. The smell, like the dirty streets was something you just got used to after decades of living in the same place, but the noise level would always be a trait that came with large cities that the Brujah would never adjust to. The traffic rushing by on the nearby streets, the never ending argument three stories above his apartment, the shitty bar music from two blocks away, some young kid getting shot not too far away, all of these noises and more were what woke him up repeatedly throughout the day. He would never trade in his city life for some backwoods town in the middle of nowhere, but having a set of earplugs that canceled out the sound of a police siren would be nice.

Tonight was no different with his broken up sleep pattern, in that he found himself waking up thirty minutes before his alarm clock was set to go off. It made him wonder why he ever used the damn thing since he always woke up in advance, but every now and then when he was stone cold out of it, the device proved to be worth the arm and leg he had sacrificed in buying it. This was mostly because he had learned very early on that sleeping through the night and missing even a single evening of feeding often lead to deadly consequences for him; the kind that put your sorry ass in jail for 'bad behavior' and had you jumping human allies in order to slake the hunger driven by your inner Beast.

From then on, the rest of his evening began the way it always did, with Nines sitting up and glancing around his small apartment. There was no window just as he liked it in order to gain better protection from the sun, but even without any form of city light he was still able to see that his dirty haven was nearly devoid of any kind of furniture except his bed, a dresser, a small table, three chairs, and an empty fridge. He never really saw the point in keeping his living space tidy, not only because all he ever did there was sleep and bathe, but because the only people that ever stopped by didn't give a damn about his filthy living habits. He was content with a lived in look, and when his guests were too, why bother? The night was short enough as is without wasting it away by cleaning or sitting around a television set, especially when his time was better spent fighting a revolution.

It was the same reason for why he had declined renting an apartment on a higher story in the rundown building he currently lived in, because having a distracting view of the city was worthless to him. Nines was a practical sort of guy after all, and when he knew the area like the back of his hand, then there was no real reason for why he should mirror the rich who paid thousands just to get a pretty look at a city that they were destroying. It was ironic too, but the view they thought was so nice from dozens of stories up, was what protected them from seeing the starving homeless that had been put there by the same assholes who used hundred dollars bills as toilet paper.

No, Nines preferred a more realistic view on life, and one that reminded him of why he fought so hard for the freedom and equality of every person that had ever been screwed over by the system. Growing up during the Great Depression can do that to a person, but even more so when you're the one suffering for some rich idiot's mistake. Nowadays the Brujah's memory was a little hazy due to his increasing age, but the time period that remained the most clear were the years he spent going to sleep behind a dumpster while his empty stomach gurgled in pain.

As a child Nines had never known who his parents were, and as such he grew up in the Los Angeles orphanage, a place which even then he had known was infinitely better than being out on the streets. His eighteenth birthday came fast though, and since there were only so many beds to spare, his caretakers shed no tears over kicking out one of their biggest troublemakers. Yet at the time he hadn't even been slightly upset at this, for he had been just as ecstatic to leave the crowded orphanage just so he could gain some resemblance of freedom that he desperately yearned for. No rules or limitations to hold him back, just him, the shirt on his back, and the rest of the world that was just itching for him to explore it.

Unsurprising things at first had been rough, and even more so when he stopped to realize just how overwhelming the city of LA could be like for a skinny no nothing kid. Eventually things fell into place though, which made it so his first year was great. He had been lucky enough to get a job working down at the railroad station, and in doing so he had been offered a small room in a workhouse nearby. It wasn't perfect or overly impressive, but it was something to call his own which was more than he could ever ask for as an orphan who thought he would never escape a life full of constant courtyard scuffles.

Yet such happiness was not meant to last, because soon the famed stock market crash hit and affected every business, big or small, all across the country. Of course most well to do people kept their jobs, while in return the hundreds of thousands of people that had made the United States possible, were laid off completely. No warning, no assistance, nothing. The streets soon overflowed with families who had been evicted from their homes, Nines included, as each night was spent huddling around trashcan fires for warmth. It was only then that the Brujah learned what true survival actually meant, for he had few if any real world skills in the first place without having to deal with a job market that had turned to shit almost overnight.

No money meant no shelter and no food, which made it so Nines turned to begging just so that he might scrounge up some form of comfort. It wasn't first on his list of options either, but searching for work had yielded no success. There had been rumors here and there of work in other states, but in the end he never had the necessary funds to transport him there. Preferring a straight up fight over sticking to the shadows any day made it so he wasn't a sneaky kind of person either, but that turned out to be his downfall in the long run since pickpocketing for the much needed cash had resulted in a beat down, while trying to hop on a train out of state had almost got him thrown in jail. Luckily soup kitchens had begun to open up for the homeless, but it never seemed to be enough when hundreds were still trying to kill one another just for simple scraps of seemingly rotten food. Add to that the drought that caused the Dust Bowl and further limited the food being brought into the city, and things seemed pretty bleak for just about everyone.

Nines, himself, had mostly stuck to the less than glamorous life of raiding garbage dumpsters for food and using old newspapers as blankets. Every once in a while some bigger, stronger person would come around looking for trouble, which while painful to deal with, at least served as a good crash course on learning how to defend one's self better. Meanwhile, the hatred he had for the corrupt individuals who had done this to the lower class grew each day. It was like a disease that ate away at his very soul, and eventually the time came that he decided it was time to strike back by forming a gang. In today's age, most gangs consisted of idiot kids who packed peashooter guns and spray painted their half assed symbols across condemned buildings. Back then though, Nines and the people he chose to let run with him had class. They didn't beat down innocent individuals for their money, torch abandoned buildings, or commit pointless acts of vandalism, but rather they focused their efforts on taking down the bastards that had forced them into crime in the first place.

The Brujah first began by eliciting the help from several thieves and pickpockets, so that with their knowledge of stealth and his knowledge of combat, they could teach everyone else in their small band to develop the same skills. During the day they protested against big government politics with picket signs, while during the night they stole food and expensive items from the rich in order to feed the poor. Sometimes they would run into trouble, but by the end of the night things somehow always wound up in their favor through their skill and determination.

Now when Nines stopped to think about it, he had unintentionally promoted the image of being a modern day Robin Hood. It was no wonder then that he had earned the reputation of being the Prince of Thieves, but such a title was one he would have never in a million years dreamt of achieving. The entire purpose behind his actions was to send a threatening message to the bigwigs upstairs that he wasn't going to sit back and just take the abuse, all while letting the lower class know that there was someone out there who was fighting for their rights. An anonymous guardian for the city of angels was all he had ever wanted to be, but though he tried to keep his identity a secret, one of his friends eventually sold him out for a fat wad of cash.

Even now he still remembered how his anger made him feel invincible enough to take down several police officers just so that he might rip out his 'buddy's' spine, but in the end he still wound up in a jail cell with a swollen face and more than a few broken bones. It was soon after that he was approached by his soon to be sire, a pale woman who simply went by the name Kat (short for Katherine), and who also revealed that she had been searching for him for quite some time. Apparently she had been impressed with how effectively he had fought against the country's injustice, and after generously bailing him out, she showed to him just what true corruption really was. It was an incredible and mind blowing experience being introduced to an entirely different kind of world, but even more so when he discovered that it was a certain group of vampires, the Camarilla, that had been secretly pulling the strings of human society all along. When he was offered the opportunity of immortality in order to better fight against these true villains then, it took little to no thought for him to quickly say yes.

Now over a half a century later, things had barely changed. Everywhere the same bullshit politics remained, but just with new faces to fill the role of someone who feigned friendly smiles for the cameras. People all around the world, living or dead, still fell for the same parlor tricks that politicians employed to keep the sheep believing in the idea that their government was still looking out for them. Any group of people who disagreed with this belief was made to look like they were they were a bunch of terrorists, or at best a pack of drooling idiots that was as wild as the Gangrel or monstrous as the Tzimisce.

Politics in the world of vampires was no different, and even after fighting bloody battle after bloody battle to keep the Camarilla out of California, it had taken them less than a year to reestablish a strong foothold in the Anarch Free State. Even worse was that they had acted like nothing had ever happened all while simultaneously convincing more and more Anarchs to change sides by either bribing them with buckets full of cash or through vicious blackmail. Another of their favorite ploys was to try to convince the public that Nines and his crew were just upset over losing the power they once abused, both of which was nothing more than a crock of shit. Sure Nines had technically held the title of Baron at some point, but not once had he ever officially accepted the position. Even to this day he was still more like an older brother to his friends rather than a respected leader of the community, and he would never want anything more than that. Having a bunch of ancient bureaucrats say different was not only insulting to everything he stood for, but it was deceptive to younger fledglings that were easily swoon by a well prepared speech. Was he still the leader of LA's downtown Anarchs? Yes, but having to flat out say he was by addressing him with a fancy title made him no better than a Camarilla Prince or a Sabbat Archbishop that loved to throw their authority all over the place.

Luckily things weren't all bad, because for just as many people as Nines had lost (either to war or politics), he was just as capable as the Camarilla of hitting back twice as hard with recruitment tactics. Over the years he had developed a certain charm that inspired people to fight for what was right, but unlike the Prince who used dirty tactics like blackmail, the Brujah Baron was genuine in the offers he made. He didn't try to screw people over and he didn't dispose of them like they were pawns whose lives were to be thrown away on the battlefield. Instead he remained night after night in The Last Round waiting for when someone sought his advice, while at the same time executing new sets of ideas that would undermine the Camarilla's authority and ultimately have them kicked back out on their sorry asses.

Tonight would simply be yet another night spent in his usual hangout, so after throwing on some clothes that reeked of cigar smoke and still had a bit of dark lipstick on his jacket corner, the Brujah left his apartment so that he could jump into his rundown, dark blue pickup truck. The thing ran, barely, and though it wasn't as stylish or reliable as his bike that had been crushed in an assassination attempt a few years back, his truck still had a certain charm to it that reflected its owner's personality to some point. It was a veteran of war that was rough around the edges, just like him, but it was a vehicle that could easily blend in with the rest of LA if it came to that.

Five minutes later and Nines found himself standing in The Last Round while the usual patrons sat at the bar ordering drink after drink in an attempt to forget their worries. Sometimes he himself would have a drink here or there that wasn't composed of human blood, but he knew that it was just his way of reminiscing about the times in which he drank straight whiskey to keep himself warm. Were those happy times? Not really, but sometimes it was just a simple memory that kept your humanity in check by reminding you of what you once were.

Along with the normal sorry sons of bitches drinking to drown their despair, there were a few members of his main crew hanging around, along with Smiling Jack, someone who was seen as more of a living legend rather than someone who involved himself directly in politics. Since nothing major was going on that night, the lot of them had taken up a game of darts in order to pass the time. It was enjoyable to watch, especially when seeing their Den Mother, Damsel, get all fired up like a red hot chili pepper on a hot summer day. Maybe it was because she was a red head, or maybe it was the Brujah blood that ran hot in her veins, but she was someone that any intelligent person would go out of their way to avoid angering. Damsel's fellow Anarch brethren knew this too well, but fortunately due to their loyalties to the cause, they could usually push her buttons without having their spine broken in twenty eight different places. Anyone else though, and it was likely the night would end with her opponent in the hospital.

Yep, tonight was pretty much like any other one, and it would have stayed that way if it hadn't been for her walking in. Her name was Valeska, or at least that was the name she had provided, but unlike the usual customers of the bar, she stuck out like a sore thumb. Not in the way she casually dressed or the lost expression of depression she wore, but in the way she smelled. It was odd to say it like that too, but being a vampire made the shit that sounded weird into the equivalent of every day terminology that his kind used. Nines had played it cool when she walked in, subtly glancing over every once in a while to catch her smiling at his rambunctious crew, but deep down his thoughts revolved on nothing more than quenching his thirst. He hadn't yet fed that evening after all, and when the two made eye contact, he knew he had to approach her.

At first she had been on the defensive, a sign of intelligence in any person with enough common sense to be paranoid when being approached by a total stranger. Yet it didn't take long for him to convince her to share her troubles with him, all of which were unexpectedly justified when compared to some of the other sob stories he had overheard when the bartender spoke with the clientele. Even more astonishing, was that Valeska seemed interested in listening to the advice he offered. Most humans that he actually took the time to speak to usually saw him as nothing more than a rebellious punk, but she went as far as to even agree with him, but not just to shut him up either. She was an odd sort of person, a little quirky and a little shy, but once she loosened up with a few drinks, he discovered that the two of them shared more in political beliefs than he would have ever thought possible. It was enough to distract him from the fact that she was obviously hiding a lot from him, and that he needed to feed, just because he wanted to keep picking at her brain. In a way she was the perfect candidate for the Anarchs, and though he had never been a sire himself, someone like her made him want to change this fact about him.

However the time to drive a stake through his hunger soon came, but it was ironic how she almost seemed to read his mind in wanting to leave the bar. He had dropped a few hints of being interested in doing this, but in the end it was her who had initiated the act of flirting. Then Patty had to go and ruin their moment, but even that had its benefits in the long run because it served to illuminate the fine little detail that Valeska was a ghoul. Now normally Nines was respectful when it came to another vampire's property, but in this instance, she was so damn oblivious that it made him wonder just how new she was to how things worked in vampire society. This opinion mostly came from how she acted as if she truly had no idea as to who he was, though whether this was on purpose in an attempt to gain his trust, find a weakness, or fish for information, he couldn't be sure.

If she had been an Anarch's ghoul, then word of it would have gotten back to him about it. The fact that it had not, combined with the way Valeska described her oppressive boss, and it was obvious that she probably belonged to some Ventrue jackass within the Camarilla. He had no problem with steeping on their toes by feeding from one of their ghouls since he ached to sample her blood, so he simply made the mental note to keep his guard up which wasn't any different from any other time out of the day anyway. She may have no longer been an ideal candidate for the Anarchs after that, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy a night with her. Besides, she was already so willing in wanting to share her blood with him, so as long as he was careful with what he discussed around her in the future (if there even was a future), then he could easily retrieve a bit of information on the Camarilla.

After that things between the two just got better and better, especially when Valeska didn't seem to mind that he simply couldn't keep his eyes off her. She wasn't exactly gorgeous or a picture perfect example of how women in Hollywood were often portrayed, but she was certainly pretty. She had a baby face that was free of makeup and contradicted the age she sounded when she spoke, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing because Nines had always preferred a natural looking woman versus one that was made up. In some small way she also reminded him of a friend that he had crushed on when he had been younger, though that had been nearly a century ago. She was an old woman now that lived in the state next door, and she was one that would have probably had a heart attack if she saw that he had not aged a single day since they last conversed. Like the rest of his childhood friends that were all nearly dead, it was better for him to just forget about them and focus on the present.

Once the two actually got to Valeska's apartment, Nines had been quick in making the first move, not only because he was starving, but because she had been causing his blood to flow to a certain area of his body that most vampires seemed to have shut off completely. There were some out there that considered sexual acts to be disgusting by vampire standards, but the Brujah clan, much like the Toreador, was much closer to their humanity than any of the other clans. Locking lips with Valeska in particular had been quite satisfying and not because she wasn't half bad at kissing, but because she was surprisingly aggressive for someone who had such a seemingly submissive personality. It was also enjoyable that she didn't flinch or shiver at his cool skin, though he wasn't sure whether this was due to unmentioned experience with sleeping with vampires or that she was just too turned on to care.

Things between them started to heat up fast, though it came to a screeching halt when she got a call from her boss. Nines had already been irritated enough in having to be interrupted, but nothing had pissed him off more than having to hear the arrogant voice of Prince LaCroix on the other end of the phone. It was like a slap to the face, or more like a brass knuckle punch to the gut, because not a single thing could have been worse at that moment than learning that he had locked lips with those that had probably been put up to the task by that slimy Ventrue bastard. Had her master been anyone else than it might have been questionable, but due to his history with the Prince, there was very little room for doubt. He felt so stupid too, because when he actually thought about it, everything she had said matched up perfectly with his ideas and opinions. His hunger and lust had gotten the better of him, which meant that he was just as much to blame for falling for this ploy that LaCroix had probably devised.

Then again, her words and actions were a little too obvious for someone who served a master of deception. If the Prince had really wanted to assassinate or spy on Nines, he would have gone about it in a more subtle way in order to avoid any possible political backlash. With someone like Valeska who had tact, but was still very clumsy, it was unlikely that he would send someone so ill-equipped to handle a situation that required a great deal of social finesse. At this point, depending on how much credit he gave LaCroix, it could technically go either way. Valeska had either been purposefully put up to the task and was being used as a disposable pawn in the Camarilla's plans to take down the Anarchs, or she wasn't, and was instead completely oblivious to who was who in LA. The only way to be sure was to question her of her intentions, which resulted in a very believable and genuine reaction that made him feel sympathy for the devil's servant.

Still, whether she was being blackmailed or not, even the possibility of being directly bonded to LaCroix through his blood meant that she was completely loyal and more than capable of sacrificing herself to fulfill his final orders. It was the kind of trouble that he just didn't need to get caught up in, especially when he was too busy trying to kick the Camarilla out of California for the second time in his life. His hunger had primarily been what had driven him to accept her being a ghoul in the first place, but now that his head was clearing, he knew that feeding from someone else was a much safer bet.

One quick snack later from one of the local prostitutes, and Nines was back at The Last Round hoping that he might take the rest of the evening off to unwind. However, not even after taking three steps inside was he hit with the sudden news from Skelter, that the entire city was being called to view the execution of a vampire whose name purposefully remained a mystery to the public. Knowing that only LaCroix could be behind this, Nines gathered up some of his crew and quickly headed towards Nocturne Theatre, not because he was obeying the Prince's orders, but because he was fearful of whose head might be on the chopping block. Apparently his timing had been damn good too, because almost as soon as he got there did the curtains pull back to reveal Isabella Rivera and some other young & terrified looking kid that he had never seen before.

Now unlike most of the delicate flowers that came from the Toreador clan, Isabella had a strong and fiery personality that mirrored that of a Gangrel or a Brujah. She was as impulsive as she was beautiful, and it had been less than three months ago that she had officially shown her interest in joining the Anarchs. Just like the rest of Nines' crew, she was fed up with having to deal with the Camarilla drones and their politics, but even more so when her sire was kissing the Prince's ass in order to gain some resemblance of power. It was the same everywhere in the Free State, as even though Kent had once been a die-hard Anarch, he had joined the Camarilla in a heartbeat when he heard that doing so was the latest fad. At least his childe knew what was right, but seeing her up on stage made him wonder if her true allegiances had been discovered. The Prince wouldn't be able to murder her just for aligning herself with the Anarchs though, so when he announced that she had sired a childe without his permission, all Nines could do was hang his head disbelief.

Before the Camarilla had reappeared, siring a childe had not been as harshly monitored as the Masquerade dictated it should be. Population control in Anarch eyes was just another means of keeping a tighter leash around an area's citizens, so in the Free State, freedom meant exactly that: a choice for every vampire to sire another should they deem a potential childe fit for living the life of the unlife. However, that did not mean that everyone went around turning flocks of humans into vampires overnight just for fun. Contrary to what the Camarilla would have their subjects believe, most Anarchs had enough common sense to exercise caution in bringing another into the world of darkness, let alone literally embracing someone. A childe after all was usually for life until the time came that their sire either saw fit to release them into the world, or one of the two simply died. It was a lot of responsibility that not many would want to be tied down with, so really, most embraces were carefully considered from all angles before a sire actually decided to go through with it. The same could not be said for the Sabbat, but that was an entirely different story, and not one that Nines agreed with in the slightest either.

Isabella on the other hand was just a baby who could barely care for herself, let alone teach another how to survive in the world. No doubt she had purposefully embraced another in order to take a stand against her sire or the Camarilla, but while this action was highly admirable, it was just plain stupid. Had California still been an Anarch Free State this issue wouldn't have even existed, but with LaCroix trying to extend his authority to even the most remote corners of LA, people were being punished for the simplest of mistakes. Trying to claim that you weren't part of the Camarilla and didn't follow their laws always fell on deaf ears, so surely Isabella would have known that straight up violence would have been a better tactic to use against them. As she kneelt on the stage with her eyes glued to the floor though, it was obvious to him now that she did not.

When the time came for Isabella to be decapitated, Nines almost found himself jumping up to defend her. Listening to LaCroix drone about the Masquerade had been more than enough to push his limits in the first place, but he held back knowing that now was not the time to unleash a full scale war on the Camarilla. Instead he was forced to watch the Sheriff bring his sword down over the Toreador's neck, all while clenching his fists, grinding his teeth, and noticing that the Prince wore an indifferent expression the entire time. To him Isabella was no more a valued member of the community than the dirt under his heel, and it was disgusting to see him murdering another just for the sake of setting an example. All he cared about was his power, something that Nines hoped to strip him of very soon.

Yet when it was the childe's turn to be executed, the Brujah couldn't control himself. Kneeling in front of the entire crowd was a lost looking individual who probably had no idea what the hell was going on, and what was LaCroix going to do? Kill him just like that, and for what? Because he was a loose end that needed to be tied off? Isabella may have done wrong by their standards when she illegally embraced another, but her childe had done nothing that warranted the final death. It was bullshit, and that was exactly what Nines said when he stood up to kick the Prince's pompous ass. Luckily for him his friends were physically strong enough to hold him back, but they couldn't erase the hatred that practically screamed at his enemy through his light blue eyes. The Ventrue's expression of hate just about matched the Brujah's, but Nines knew without a doubt that he was just a coward who had no stomach for a real fight. He stayed up in his tower hiding behind countless soldiers and a towering bodyguard, because everyone knew that if the two of them were to every duke it out, Nines would come out on top. Right at that moment he wanted nothing more than to rip that French bastard on stage in two, but for now he would just have to settle for taking a stand against his immoral decision.

Of course being a politician pretty much made it so he was able to quickly turn the tides back to his favor. A few simple sentences was all it took to make Nines look the fool, while LaCroix was left making it seem like he had made the compassionate move of allowing the Toreador childe to live. It was all crap, every single part of it, and then turning around to see Valeska on the way out was just the cherry on top to his less than cheerful evening. He was more than willing to put her out of his mind completely by reassuring himself that their encounter was purely by chance, and that the possibility that the Prince wasn't her master was very real. Yet hearing him call the ghoul's name just had reality smacking him in the face while his temper flared back up. At least LaCroix looked partially confused and even suspicious with why she had shot him such an ashamed expression, but it still didn't mean shit to him. She was a blood bonded servant of the Camarilla, and though she might be used in the future, right now he wanted nothing to do with her.

Stepping outside with his friends flanking him on both sides, Nines took in a deep breath of fresh air. There was no real reason for him to do so either since oxygen served no purpose to a vampire, but the polluted air always had a way of calming his anger to some degree. Glancing to his left he saw Skelter shaking his head.

"Man, that was fucking bullshit," he grumbled in a low tone. "God strike me down now, but I was sure he was gonna kill that fledgling."

"He was," Nines simply said, "And for all we know, he still might do it when no one's watchin' by making it look like a goddamn accident."

"Least you had the balls to take a stand though," Damsel pointed out, her arms crossed with the fury that the three of them all mutually shared. "Lots of people were standing up in agreement."

"Yeah, but if something ain't done soon to change things then it will be us up on that stage next," Nines explained, "And I have this feelin' that shit's going to hit the fan soon. When it does, I need you and the others to be ready for whatever that storm may bring."

"I hear ya, Nines. I'll be there for you till I get caught in a sunrise or Caine comes back to drain my ass. That, I can promise you," Skelter reassured with a slight nod.

"Kiss ass," Damsel joked with a laugh before turning to their Baron, "You know I've got your back, so I'm not going to waste words saying it."

"Couldn't have asked for more, from either of you," Nines acknowledged with a small smile. "Now let's get out of here." No more words were needed after that, and as the crew began to head back to The Last Round, Nines felt a certain sense of happiness. Skelter and Damsel always had a way of doing that to him, because even knowing that he had at least one friend in this whole fucked up world was what really kept him going. If he had to do things alone, then so be it, but having a group of people he could look to as being similar to a family did wonders for his motivation. They relied on him just like he relied on them, and in the end their trust was well placed because he would take bullets for them if it ever came to that. He was noble like that, or maybe he was as bat shit insane as your everyday Malkavian. Only time would truly tell where this path of fearlessness that he walked would lead, and all he could hope for was that he would still be standing there at the end. He always knew that his last figurative breath would be taken while staring into the eyes of his enemy, but so long as he took the motherfucker down with him, such an end was perfectly okay with him.

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**Author's Notes:** Phew, glad to be done with that chapter because my mind has been bursting with ideas for the next few. A bit more romance will be thrown into the mix as we see how LaCroix will react to frenzying on his ghoul. A fair warning is that there is drama inbound, though in any story that's going to happen. Later on we'll switch back to Valeska and have her finally discovering what it is that makes her different from the average person. In the meantime, if you liked or disliked this chapter, let me know why! When I do something right I want to keep doing it, but if something ticked you off, I want to know so that I can refrain from repeating the same mistake. Anything else you want to share is also great, so drop a review if you can!


	35. Sympathy for the Devil

**Announcement (please read!): **Before reading this chapter, I have an announcement to make to my fans, even though I know it might potentially risk my reputation as a writer. The previous chapter may or may not have some of its minor details revised in the future due to an anonymous accusation of plagiarism. Now at first these claims hurt me deeply, not because they were being made, but because the author whom I supposedly stole from is someone I consider a very good friend. They have always helped me out considerably with my own story, but I myself had never had the chance to go over their own stories due to a lack of time. However, after comparing my chapter to theirs, the similarities go beyond uncanny that I myself could never be upset with the person who made these claims. In fact, I actually appreciate the fact that they stepped forward to defend another author in the community rather than explode on my review wall or send me a nasty message. That being said though, I am still going to make the statement that I have never knowingly taken another person's ideas. As a sign of good faith then, I may return to the previous chapter to change some of the minor details to avoid any ill feelings in the future. When and if I choose to do this, I will inform the fans, but I felt the need to announce this now as to cancel out confusion out there. Thanks everyone!

**Author's Note: **To save room, I'll just throw in a few details on this chapter and leave it at that. This chapter is from LaCroix's POV, and it will have history, contemplations, and more. Also, a quick note to add is that when see the Prince in his past speaking, we can assume that he and his family are all speaking French even if it isn't specifically mentioned. I have not yet taken a French class, so to avoid any horrible translations from Google, I decided to go with that. Enjoy!

**Special Thanks:** Thank you, thank you, thank you to the following reviewers of the last chapter who are myobsidianbutterfly, Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, and aberdeenkev! Your support is what gets me through when things get rough, thank you. ^_^

**Responses: **To myobsidianbutterfly: No problem on not reviewing, because I definitely understand how work tends to soak up free time like a sponge. I'm ecstatic to hear that you've enjoyed the last chapters, and though I will say that as of this moment I am wanting to avoid the whole love triangle cliché, the interaction between Nines and Valeska is not over yet. As for why LaCroix frenzied, look no further than this chapter to find out why. Finally, I appreciate your understanding in my taking off for a bit of down town. Every author needs a break! *hugs back*

To Naruto Loves FemKyuubi: If I gave the impression that Nines was underestimating LaCroix, then I apologize for that. This was not my intention for I truly think that would be the last thing his character would ever do. I agree that Nines also has a bit of a manipulative streak to him, as though he always gives your player a choice, he is highly persuasive when he gives advice. I'm not entirely sure LaCroix is as capable of controlling his temper as you would think, but in a social setting when his reputation at stake then he can very well. If you'd like to share some vampire lyrics, then PM me them! =)

To aberdeenkev: Valeska will no doubt try to persuade the Prince to abandon his obsessions with the sarcophagus, though whether it will work or not I cannot say. The character from the game I am still fleshing out in regards to where he will fit in, so stay tuned!

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**Chapter 34 Sympathy for the Devil**

Sebastian LaCroix stood barefoot on the sunlit beaches of Calais, his feet slowly sinking into the wet sand while the salty air stung at his face. It was a beautiful day minus the insistent calling of seagulls from up above, and as such, there were plenty of fishermen down on the shores as well as dock workers unloading cargo in the distance. Yes, everything seemed to be just as it always had been, except for one glaring inconsistency, the Prince was only seven years old. He wouldn't have realized it either, but glancing down to see his small hands and the holes in his pant legs instantly transported him back to a time period in which he would have happily forgotten.

Rushing over to the nearest shallow pool of water, LaCroix got down on his hands and knees in order to better see that staring back at him was a reflection of innocence that had been lost long ago. Bringing a single hand up to his sun kissed face in disbelief, he was momentarily distracted by a small child skipping up to him from the corner of his eye. Dressed in shabby attire that matched the Prince's, the young girl couldn't have been older than four or five. Her long brown hair ran down to the middle of her back, and on her face that looked just like a younger version of his mother's, was a pure expression of joy. It was his sister, Danielle, someone who immediately made him forget about his curiosities with why or even how he was back in the body of his childhood self.

"Look at what I found!" she cried happily in French, before pulling a previously hidden white and tan stripped conch shell from behind her back. "Mama told me you can hear the ocean if you put it to your ear and it actually works too. Here, try it!" Holding it out to him with her tiny fingers delicately wrapped around the shell, she grinned cheerfully at her older brother.

"That's stupid, Danielle. You can't hear the sea just by putting a shell to your ear," Sebastian felt himself saying in his native tongue as he situated himself into a sitting position in the sand. It wasn't his first choice of words that he would have used in a similar situation today, but it seemed as though the memory of this event was choosing his words for him.

"Seby, come oooon!" she whined as she stomped her bare foot on the ground in frustration.

"Oh fine…" he grumbled, trying to ignore the nickname she had given to him. It wasn't like it was her fault for using it though, because saying Sebastian wasn't exactly an easy task for a five year old. Taking ahold of the conch shell, the young Prince placed it against his ear and was surprised that he actually could hear sounds that could be associated with that of the ocean.

"Do you hear it…?" his sister breathed with wide, hopeful eyes.

"I don't hear anything," Sebastian lied, "I told you it wouldn't work." Tossing it into the sand next to him, he went back to staring dully at the group of fishermen ahead of him, one of whom that was hauling in a net full of shiny scaled fish along with a few crabs that had been tossed into the mix.

"Liar! You're a liar!" Danielle exclaimed angrily while dramatically pointing a finger in his direction.

"I am not," her brother denied calmly, as he focused his pale blue eyes on a few sea gulls that were trying to snatch away some the fish from the man with the net.

"You are too!" she countered, stomping her foot again into the sand, "Mama says you do that cuz you wanna be like papa, but I think it's wrong to lie." Sighing irritably, Sebastian looked up at his sister who glared at him with her light blue eyes; a trait that was the most prominent throughout his small family just like their high cheekbones.

"So? At least father is a respectable attorney of the law who doesn't waste his time playing with seashells!" Sebastian retorted, even though he knew her words rang true. His father, Louis LaCroix, had always been sort of a role model to the Prince during his younger years. It didn't help either that the two were very similar in appearance, as Louis had fine blonde hair, a sharp noise, and fair facial features just like his son, while Danielle looked more like their mother, Sophie, who had long eyelashes, thick brown hair, and a heart-shaped face. Additionally their personalities were quite alike, and Sebastian did his best to maintain this image by appearing as reserved as possible by behaving indifferently when around other people. His baby sister in particular was someone he deeply cared for, but displaying such emotions he had learned were better left being kept in check.

"You're just jealous that I have a prolific and demi…demiur…demiurgic imagination!" Danielle argued as she struggled with her words.

"Do you even know what those words mean, Danielle?" her brother demanded staring directly into her eyes.

"No…but that's what mama says I am," she answered, sounding very proud as she put her hands on her hips. "But I bet you don't know what they mean either, Seby!" LaCroix rolled his eyes.

"Of course I know what they mean, don't be so stupid," he lied again, tucking his knees under his chin.

"So what _do_ they mean then?" his sister innocently asked, making it so he wasn't sure if she was just calling him out or was simply curious.

"It means you're annoying, now go away," the young Prince ordered as he picked up a handful of sand so that it could slowly slip from his hold and drift into the wind.

"Why you…you…big fat meanie!" she screamed as she kicked sand up in his face. Unfortunately for young Sebastian, his sister had very good aim, and thus managed to direct most of the sand up his nose and into his eyes. Coughing furiously, Danielle's brother struggled to his feet and frantically began to rub at his burning eyes in a feeble attempt to clear the persistent grains of sand that still remained. Slowly he opened his eyes fully, only to see the blurry image of Danielle stomping away angrily, her little footprints leaving an easy trail to follow should he choose to do so.

"Oh you're in for it now!" Sebastian shouted after her. Looking back only for a second, Danielle grinned and took off down the beach's shore. As children, the LaCroix siblings had both had their manipulative streaks as most kids did at their ages. However, few if any could deny the innocent look Danielle would give her victims when she looked up at them with her big blue eyes. It rarely if ever worked on her brother though, so often behaving violently or angrily would get her what she wanted in the long run, just as it had now. After all, she had wanted to play with her bigger brother, so kicking sand in his face had ultimately achieved this goal by having him playfully chase after her while she let out shrieks of laughter.

"Sebastian! Danielle!" their mother suddenly called, her thick French accent cutting through the air. "It's dinner time, now come inside before it gets dark!"

"Yes, mother," her son obediently responded as he quickly caught up to his sister and directed her to their mother patiently waiting at the tree line. Their house was well over a mile away, but the fact that she walked down to the beach every day just to remind them of mealtime showed how devoted she had been to her children during those times.

"Can't we stay a little longer, mama? Pleeeeeeeaaase?" Danielle begged with her hands clasped in front of her. Sophie LaCroix laughed as she looked to her oldest born.

"And what of you my revered little solider? Do you also wish to stay on these ocean shores?" their mother inquired, the front of her apron that covered her simple dress being filthy from a hard day's work.

"Is father home yet?" Sebastian asked, answering her question with one of his own.

"I…no child, he is not," she replied quietly, her voice wavering slightly. "Tonight will probably be another late night for him."

"Then I would like to stay here," Sophie's son requested. It wasn't that he disliked his mother, but eating watered down soup with chunks of old fish for the sixth day in a row and then spending the rest of the evening bored out of his mind did not sound very appealing to a seven year old Prince.

"Ahh very well, but you must promise me if those storm clouds up ahead get any closer that you will bring yourselves home right away, yes?" Sophie offered as she pointed at the angry clouds in the far distance. "I wouldn't want the two of you to get sick."

"Yes, mother," Sebastian agreed with a nod as his sister jumped to give her mother a hug.

"Thank you, mama!" Danielle acknowledged before taking off towards the shore. Her brother would have followed suit, but a strong grasp on the back of his collar held him in place.

"Remember what I said, Sebastian. At the first sign of rain I want both of you back home," Sophie reminded her son who simply nodded again in understanding, "Good boy, now go have fun my little soldier. I love you." With that she bent over to kiss his forehead.

Turning around in order to find his sister, Prince LaCroix was met with an entirely different scene as he was now standing in the day room that was part of his parent's mansion. It was a pleasant enough scene to view, for the sun's high noon rays trickled in through the room's large bay windows that looked out to his mother's rose garden. Still, being here now was odd since such a structure would not be achieved until his ninth birthday. As if to clarify his theory that he had somehow jumped ahead into the future, an older version of his mother stood before him dressed in France's latest fashions for that specific time period. Her hair had greyed significantly, her face wore an ugly expression of pure disgust, and in her hand was a mostly empty bottle of wine,

"What makes you think I'd want to see anything you've accomplished?" Sebastian's mother snapped as her son remained where he was, his hands behind his back and his heels tightly together.

"Well despite my trepidation, my tutors have requested that I do so," his twelve year old self responded calmly, his words more sophisticated than they had been only five years ago. "They state that any form of feedback, positive or negative, is a necessary process in the improvement of my education."

"Is that right? Well how's this for feedback: You are the scourge of France. Everything you have ever done has been a complete disaster, and everything you will ever do will result in an equal amount of failure, because you will always be nothing more than a disappointment to me!" the surprisingly coherent yet still drunken Sophie spat as Sebastian did nothing but blink. On his face was an emotionally absent expression that hid the sadness he felt, but his buried frustrations that lay deep inside him were screaming viciously at him to fight back.

"Why do you hold such contempt for me, mother?" he enquired softly, trying to keep his perfect posture that he had been trained to maintain for long periods of time. "Everything I have ever done has been for the happiness that you might hold for your only child, but day by day all you do is insult me. Why? What have I done to make you hate me so?"

"_What have you done?_" his mother repeated shrilly, hurling her wine bottle at a nearby wall. Due to the force she used with her throw, the bottle shattered upon impact and caused Sebastian to jump in shock. Taking a step towards her stunned son, she jabbed a finger harshly into the center of his chest. "You killed Danielle is what you've done!" As she shouted, specks of saliva hit the young Prince's face as he stared up at his furious mother.

"Mother, I -" he began, only to be silenced by a harsh slap across his face that rang in his ears.

"Don't you interrupt me!" she shouted as her son blinked back his shocked expression and covered the red mark on his left cheek with his hand. "You chose not to listen to me, and your sister is dead because of that, because of you who never cared about her in the first place. Your very presence disgusts me, because it reminds daily of who I wish would have died that day instead of her." LaCroix opened his mouth to defend himself, but more so to defend the memory of his sister who would have never wanted to see the two of them fighting. Yet the possibility of being hit again stopped him from doing this, and seeing her son's defeat was all she needed to start back up. "Did you hear me? I wish you were DEAD!"

Prince LaCroix's eyes flew open as he sat straight up in what was complete darkness. If he had been alive he might have been waking up in a pool of his own sweat as he struggled to regain control over his frantic heart beat and heavy breathing. However, seeing as how he was not, the worst that he was currently experiencing was the shock from what seemed like a very realistic dream composed of memories that still haunted his waking consciousness. Taking a moment to settle his frantic thoughts, the Ventrue sighed and glanced around. He was in his bed, that much he could automatically assume by the way the surface he sat upon gently formed around his lower body, but he could not for the life of him recall how he had gotten there.

However, in his mind the events of the past few nights came clearly to him, especially Grout's dinner party that had lead up to the blackmail of his ghoul. He had already been irritated enough that evening with having to waste his time by listening to the Malkavian Primogen's discuss his findings on the vampiric condition, but returning to his vehicle to find that Valeska had been injured within the mansion's walls had upset him more than he thought it would. It wasn't that he had been angry with her or anything, but rather he had actually been _concerned_ when he saw her unconscious form bleeding in the back of his car. At the time he had tried to convince himself that these emotions had been fashioned in the event of losing a valuable resource or in the desire to preserve any information she might have had on the good doctor, but even then he had known he was simply fooling himself to believe that.

Of course then hearing that she wouldn't accept his blood just added to the frustration that he already felt with the entire situation. The nerve of some individuals these nights was staggering, but knowing that she would rather suffer in silence than drink his blood gave him the impression that she was disgusted with him of all people. Not to mention that she had no useful data on Grout, which only served to place him further on edge than he already was. This eventually led to a very heated argument, one that he easily won, but felt regretful when he saw his ghoul sulking at the other end of the vehicle. Part of him had wanted to apologize for some reason, something that had him slamming doors all the way up to his penthouse due to this confusing array of reactions he was dealing with.

When his ghoul finally returned to his presence, he had more than enough time to bury these distracting feelings in order to attend to the situation at hand, which namely in this case was Valeska's resignation. Such an event had hardly been surprising to the Prince who had already anticipated this move occurring at some point from her end of things, but it was fair to say that he hadn't expected it to come so early. Her submissive personality that often caved in to his demands was what mostly had him thinking this way, but it was interesting to see her stand up for herself in such a fearless way. Still, bravery often did not exist without possessing some form of confidence, something she revealed to him had come to be from the evidence on blood bonds she had discovered in Grout's mansion.

Now for all the pent up anger that had been steadily eating away at LaCroix that night, he had still been able to keep a calm, collected attitude even as his ghoul practically screamed at him and challenged his authority yet again (a tedious habit of hers that was quickly becoming exasperating to deal with). Diplomacy after all was a carefully exercised technique of his, and one that had no doubt gotten to him where he was today while his challengers had outright failed in humiliation. The same could not be said for his ghoul though, who had predictably and impulsively attacked him in an explosive fit of rage after he had threatened her grandmother's life. Her actions had been without a doubt justified, a primary reason for why he didn't break her arm for penance in her pathetic attempt to strike him, but his proposition to her had been more than fair. It was a simple one too, for so long as she remained loyal to him, then her grandmother's life would not only be safe, but prolonged whilst she remained in the best cancer fighting hospital the country had to offer. In the end this logic or perhaps the love Valeska held for her grandmother had worked in his favor by getting him exactly what he wanted: his ghoul to sign her life away to him.

After this he had no real reason to keep the young woman on his mind for he had everything he wanted from her, minus the much needed evidence he had been hoping to retrieve in regards to Grout's possible treason. Yet he also knew that carelessly throwing away his valuable time by worrying over such a possibility was meaningless, because if he stopped to fret over every hiccup in any sort of plan he had ever schemed, then he would have gone insane with anxiety long ago. It was only a matter of time until the Malkavian Primogen revealed his true intentions that might just incriminate himself all on his own, but if not, then all LaCroix had to do was to simply devise a new plan that would prevent the doctor from exposing any less than favorable secrets he may have possessed on Los Angeles' Prince.

The evening following the one after Grout's gathering had been just as busy as its predecessor, though fortunately it had begun without the normal stresses most nights seemed to bring lately. However, stating that there was nothing to do would have been a large exaggeration as well as an insult to how hard LaCroix had actually been working. There was the usual business surrounding his company to contend with, the stock market which seemed to be a hit or miss lately (luckily mostly successes for the Prince), and of course his usual vampire duties that came with running one of the most populated cities in the country. All in all it had been more than enough to distract him from his own personal worries, but perhaps a little too well.

Ever since the Ventrue Prince had gotten another taste of Valeska's blood, his usual meals had been…less than satisfactory as of late. It made it so he had completely ignored every wine glass his secretary brought to him every few hours or so, with his excuse being that he had was much too caught up in his work to worry about sustaining himself. The truth was, that the last time he had actually fed himself had been the day before he visiting Grout in his mansion. The bitterness from that meal had nearly made him regurgitate the entirety of blood he had swallowed, and after drinking a second glass to make sure it had not been a bad batch, he was even more sure that Valeska's sweet tasting fluids had spoiled him. At the Malkavian Primogen's party he had not dared lifted a glass to drink, not out of the fear that the doctor would be bold enough to somehow poison him, but because one sniff of the meal placed in front of him had been all he needed to know that he could not drink it. Even for a Ventrue he had always been picky in his personal tastes, whether it was the clothes he wore, the vehicles he bought, or in this case, the blood he drank. Now things seemed to be even worse in that regard, and all he could wonder was what was so special about Valeska's blood that had caused that to be.

Then, as if a bad movie were playing out before him, he was hit with a series of events that put him in a foul mood that rivaled even that of the previous night. The first had been when the highly dramatic and irritating individual, Kent Alan Ryan, practically waltz into the Prince's office like he owned the entire building. Such theatrics were quite common when it came to the Toreador clan, but Kent in particular had always been someone who made LaCroix want to dominate his mind and have him jump off a bridge. Yet tonight the annoyance that usually came from dealing with him had an astonishingly useful purpose. In this case, that turned out to be Kent blowing the whistle on his own childe, who had gone against his authority for the last time by siring an illegal childe of her own. As if he needed more evidence to convict Isabella to her fiery death, her Toreador sire went on to inform him of her uncomplimentary opinion on both the Prince and the Camarilla, all before leaving almost as melodramatically as he had arrived.

A few consecutive orders later that entailed the details on what must be done in order to detain Isabella & her fledgling childe, and LaCroix was all set to call upon his ghoul to accompany him to the trial. Most of this was because he desired his servant to be well educated on the current comings and goings in the vampire community of LA as should every person under his employ be. Yet at the same time, he couldn't deny that a major underlying reason for requesting her presence was because he yearned for a sweeter meal that only she could provide. Her blood had become something of an addiction to him, and one that he had yet to appoint someone to research out of the fear of either discovering something that he might not like or even worse, if the knowledge of her nature got out to the public. No doubt a clan like the Tremere would have a field day in experimenting on her just so they might unlock what secrets her blood had. That is to say of course if her blood had the same effect on every person that drank from her, something that had him anxious yet again as to why she affected him so strongly. However, this was not something he was willing to test just for the sake of illumination, for if everyone else was equally affected with the addiction he seemed to suffer from, then it would prove to be more trouble than the ghoul was worth.

When the Prince dialed her number then in an attempt to summon her, he was met with nothing more than an answering machine that held a default message. At the time he had attributed her ignoring of the phone to the fact that she still might be asleep or even in the shower, yet additional calls proved no more successful than the first one. In return, all this did was agitate him greatly due to the fact that she might be purposefully ignoring him out of spite for his actions of the previous evening. Deciding he would find out first hand if this were the case, he left Venture Tower and directed his chauffeur towards Valeska's apartment complex. He would tear down her very front door if necessary to reach his ghoul, because if there was one thing he would never, ever tolerate, it was to be ignored.

Such violent actions proved to be unnecessary though, as his ghoul finally decided to answer him right as he was on his way down the elevator. Even through the phone he had been able to tell she was lying about why she had not answered his calls, but whether this was because of her frantic heartbeat or the breathless way in which she spoke to him, he couldn't be sure. It made him ponder as to what exactly she had been doing before he called too, but such thoughts wandered into an area he knew was better left to her privacy. However this was not because he had the desire to respect her privacy (something that was hard to come by for anyone in the 21st century), but because these same thoughts disgusted him with the possibility that she had been serving someone else, especially when he had strictly ordered her to stay in her apartment so she could recover from her wounds. Seeing her in person however, was all the evidence he needed to know that she had probably been with another person only moments ago, for her normal scent that was usually alluring to some degree, had been replaced with alcohol, cheap cigars, and the familiar smell of a man whose smell whose name escaped him. Nevertheless, such a mystery would simply have to be solved after the trial, for at the time he had been more concerned with handling his duties as Prince of LA.

After that, things in his mind became fuzzy. He remembered delivering his speech on Isabella's wrongdoings within the Nocturne Theatre, as it had been an attempt to display his authority as a leader while also giving an excellent display of Camarilla justice. It was after all a perfect example of what would happen to any vampire should they choose to break the laws that protected and held their society in place, and following any other path that did not harbor such intentions would have made him an outright fool. Things from then on seemed to being going well, or at least they were until the infamous Nines Rodriguez challenged his authority by forcing him to stay his hand in executing the Toreador fledgling. Luckily he turned things back into his favor swiftly enough, but the fact that his authority had been undermined by the loathsome ex-Baron was a move that just might have cost him a few new recruits to the Anarchs.

Not nearly as bad, though still irritating, was the fact that when he called Valeska to him she not only hesitated with this command, but she shot the Anarch leader an expression of what could only be an unspoken apology. There could have been a number of reasons for why she had done such a thing, ranging from her sharing some form of sympathy for someone who might have been the Brujah's friend, all the way down to treason. Either way, the Prince had more important business to attend to in regards to the Toreador fledgling and decided he would simply check in with the agent he had hired to follow his ghoul once he returned to Venture Tower.

While LaCroix would have loved to state that his memory of the discussion he had with Isabella's childe was crystal clear in his mind, such a statement would have been an outright fabrication. The best he could honestly recall were bits and pieces of ordering the fledgling to get in contact with his older ghoul, Mercurio, presumably so that the Sabbat warehouse in Santa Monica could be wiped off the map. He had no misconceptions that the young vampire would succeed in this endeavor, but rather at best, he would perish in the fiery explosive set to take out the Ventrue Prince's enemies that had crossed the line more than once. It would be like killing two birds with one stone he had decided, but again, this was all forthright speculation on his end due to an absent memory.

Now back in his penthouse without a clue as to how he got there, the confused Prince of LA got out of his bed in order to find someone who might have answers. Glancing down at his watch in the hopes that it might reveal something useful, he saw that the face read exactly four in the morning, a sign that he had been out of it for little less than three hours. It was then that he also realized that he was still wearing the same suit he had worn during his speech, but with one alarming difference: the entire front of it was encrusted with what could only be blood. Hurrying to his bathroom that was connected to where he slept each day, he flipped the light switch on to get a better look at his general appearance. What he saw though was even more shocking than waking up caked in blood, because all down his abdomen was evidence of gun shots while his mouth had two fine streams of rust colored blood that ran down to his pale neck and stained his collared.

Taking a damp washcloth to his face, the Prince began to clean his grimy skin the best he could all while making the distressing mental note that the scent of blood on his face was not his, it was Valeska's. An odd sort of panic began to bubble up within him, as the possibility he may have killed his ghoul in some kind of blood driven frenzy leapt into his mind. Although such a theory made perfect sense to him considering the fact that he had not fed in quite some time and that he had been apparently shot on top of all that, it didn't make him feel any better about the situation. In fact, part of him actually felt like he was going to be sick to his stomach which was odd considering that losing an employee was nothing he tended to fret over. After all, there never seemed to be a limit of young vampires willing to carry out his every order in an attempt to gain some kind of recognition. Eventually every employee outlived their usefulness at some point anyway, but with Valeska though…

Before he could speculate further on how he would handle the death of someone who was supposed to be insignificant, the faint sound of a female sobbing reached his ears over the sound of running water from his faucet. Believing, or more like hoping, that it was his ghoul, he shut his sink off and quickly left his master bedroom in order to locate the source of the sound. What he found though was his Toreador secretary, Katrina, who was being comforted by his chauffeur, Luke, who appeared as if he wanted nothing more than to leave for the evening. His Sheriff on the other hand, who he had expected to be waiting in his office, was nowhere to be seen.

"What is the meaning of this?" Prince LA demanded as both of their eyes locked onto his disheveled appearance. He had assumed that even in his current state, his secretary would have at least looked relieved that he was alright, yet this did nothing to change her fearful expression.

"Oh excuse me, sir!" Katrina exclaimed, as she immediately stood up and wiped her eyes, "I jus-"

"Maybe I should handle this, Kat," Luke quickly interrupted as he stepped forward. "You're not in the best state of mind right now."

"Stop fretting over me like I'm a delicate flower!" the Prince's secretary snapped, "He needs to know what happened!"

"If the two of you are finished wasting my time with this inane squabble of yours, I would very much so appreciate being let in on the details of the situation at hand," LaCroix irritably began as he crossed his arms. "For clearly your distress has not stemmed for the concern over my own personal health."

"Well of course the two of us were worried about you, but we knew that you would make a full recover after the sacrifice your ghoul made," Katrina murmured as she averted her eyes, "It's just that…well she…I'm not entirely sure…"

"Stop your mumbling and tell me what has transpired!" the Ventrue vampire angrily shouted, "Is Valeska alive or is she not?"

"She's fine, sir," his chauffeur announced after a split second of uncomfortable silence, "She's passed out in the guest room due to an extreme loss of blood, but as far as we can tell, she's going to make a full recovery."

"Loss of blood due to what reason…?" LaCroix asked slowly, unsure if he really wanted to hear the answer. His muscles had relaxed in relief at hearing that Valeska was alive, but they would soon tense back up if his original theory of attacking her proved true. "And while you're at it, I'd also like to know how my best suit was ruined."

"You mean you don't remember?" Luke returned in confusion.

"Obviously not, or I wouldn't be asking now would I?" the Prince snapped.

"Right, my apologies, sir. I suppose I'll just start at the beginning then. You uhm," his driver began before clearing his throat, "You were attacked by a group that we can only assume was the Sabbat since the details of such are still pending. As you can see by your chest, you took some heavy fire before your ghoul shielded you from taking any more."

"Stop," the Venture vampire ordered as he put a hand up, "Are you trying to tell me that she took a bullet for me?" His voice was full of disbelief and though he knew his chauffeur had no reason to lie, the last person he would have ever expected to commit such a selfless act for him would have been his ghoul. A primary reason for believing in this notion was his most recent behavior and actions he had committed towards her, but then again, they were bonded through blood which would have made her more loyal than the average employee.

"Well I'm not sure if she literally took a bullet for you since I didn't get a good look at her injuries, but she did protect you. It was kind of inspiring to watch too, because she just sort of took control of the situation by leaving the Sheriff to cover us so that we could escape. Kind of like you would have…" Luke explained before quickly adding, "Sir."

"I see," was all the Prince said as he tried to wrap his mind around the idea of the Sheriff obeying another's orders. Had LaCroix been conscious in the situation he probably would have commanded the same thing depending on the details and layout of the battlefield, so perhaps that was why he had stayed behind when Valeska requested it of him. "Where is my Sheriff now?"

"Standing watch outside your ghoul's door," Katrina spoke up, her hands resting upon her forearms in a way in which someone might attempt to physically protect themselves.

"What? Why?" LaCroix demanded in bewilderment.

"When we got to a safe distance, Valeska fed you her blood. Obviously it saved your life or at least sped up the healing process, but it also unfortunately lead to your frenzying on her," Luke replied. "By the time we got back to Venture Tower she was about as close to death as the everyday vampire is, so our only option was to nourish her with vamp vitae."

"Whose?" the Prince enquired as he tried to deal with the onslaught of emotions he was being faced with. He already felt guilty enough about attacking someone who had saved his life not once, but twice, yet there were worse things that currently preoccupied his mind. The main one being that the literal act of frenzying was often seen by the Camarilla as an act of weakness on the vampire's part due to either a lack of humanity, or a disturbing connection they had with their inner Beast. Knowing that he himself hadn't been strong enough to resist his temptations not only upset him in what he thought he was capable of controlling, but it worried him with what political consequences this might eventually lead to. At least everything he had heard so far gave him the impression that only his Sheriff, chauffeur, and secretary were aware of these rather personal transpiring's, which made it so cleaning up this mess of his would be simple if it ever came to that. The Sheriff was loyal so would therefore remain silent, his driver may have belonged to another vampire so wiping his mind would take care of him, and finally, his disposable secretary could easily be replaced with a more capable individual who wasn't so emotional.

"Mine, sir," Katrina revealed. LaCroix couldn't help but shoot her an angry glare as he absolutely despised the idea of another person having influence over his servant, even if it was only mildly so. Just another reason to have her eliminated he supposed, and as if she knew he was thinking of this she quickly spoke up again. "We would have given her your vitae, but considering the circumstances, the two of us decided that a third party person might have been a better choice for safety reasons."

"Yeah, turns out we were right about that too because your ghoul wound up attacking, Kat," his driver added. "Scared us both to death too with how she did it too. One minute she was on death's door step, and the next she had her teeth tearing out Kat's neck like a wild animal." As if the secretary was reliving the event, her hand went up to her neck in order to rub it apprehensively. "Luckily the Sheriff arrived just in time to stop her from killing anyone, so to answer your original question, that's why he's outside her door. We're all guessing she frenzied or something, but I've seen ghouls frenzy before and the strength she displayed was like that of a vampire…" LaCroix raised a single eyebrow at his last sentence as he attempted to act as if he were surprised, even though he was already highly aware that something about his ghoul was off.

"Your observation, while clearly impossible, is duly noted, Mr. Taylor. However, I remind you that your position in this organization is strictly to that of a versatile chauffeur, not to creates wild suppositions with something that can be easily explained," the Prince reminded as his driver simply nodded, "Now then, your assistance in this matter has been appreciated, but…" Taking a step forward he locked eyes with his chauffeur and. "I want you to forget everything you saw this evening in regards to the frenzying of both myself and my ghoul. As far as you are concerned, the only part you played in tonight's events was providing transportation, which if I might add, you did admirably."

"Thank you, sir, it is my pleasure to continue to serve you even in the heart of danger," Luke blankly acknowledged as the Prince broke their stare. For a moment the chauffeur stood still, before blinking in confusion and looking around.

"You may see yourself out, Mr. Taylor," LaCroix ordered as his driver nodded and left the room.

"And what of me, sir?" Katrina requested with folded hands in front of her and a voice that had just a hint of worry to it. On her face was an unsurprised expression though, seeing as how she had witnessed her superior Dominate the mind of countless others in the past. Part of him wished he could have done the same to his secretary as he did not like to carelessly throw employees away without a good reason, but in the end he knew that she was a lower generation vampire. This not only meant that her blood had grown more potent with age, but that her mind had built up a natural resistance to any kind of mind control. Whatever the case, he had been wanting to acquire a new secretary for quite some time now, though for now he would simply behave as if he intended to keep her around.

"What about you? You are an intelligent enough person that I shouldn't have to tell you to remain silent about tonight's events. Now return to your normal duties, Miss Thornton," he ordered with feigned compliments to place her mind at ease.

"Of course, sir, thank you," she acknowledged, an edge of gratefulness present in her voice.

"Oh, one more thing," the Prince said, stopping his secretary from leaving just yet. "I want the agent that has been documenting my ghoul's schedule to write up a report on her most recent actions that took place before the trial."

"Yes, sir," Katrina accepted as she left the room. Turning on his heel, the Prince navigated through his dim hallways towards a destination that would have been evident to most persons, for there was only one place he desired to be at that moment after the night's events. Upon approaching the guest bedroom, he saw his obedient Sheriff standing like a statue outside the door.

"Is Miss Latimer still within?" he questioned as his loyal Sheriff nodded. "Very well. Seeing as how the initial threat has passed, I believe I can handle things from here." He paused, before switching to French to give his next order so that if Katrina heard her superior, she would have no idea with what he was saying. "Keep a close eye on my secretary, as I cannot trust her to remain silent as of right now." Seeing as how his bodyguard had been taught the Prince's homeland language very early on in order to better serve his master, it was no surprise then that he simply nodded again with perfect understanding of what he was being told to do. He didn't ask any kind of questions in regards to his orders either, but instead left the area entirely to carry them out. When it came to the actual task of assassinating Katrina, he knew that the Sheriff probably already knew of these intentions, but would not act on them unless told. This trait of his was very useful in this instance, as brute force was the last thing that would be called for with something like this.

Instead the Prince knew that to avoid any possible complications the situation required secrecy that only the Assamite could offer, a clan of vampire assassins whose modern day motives were as mysterious as the Tremere. At one point in time they had been freelancers completing contracts in return for Kindred blood, but as their diablerie became more well-known, it was clear that these dark actions had to be stopped. Thus, the Tremere were sought out to place a curse on their blood that would prevent them from drinking vampire blood, something that turned out to be quite effective in solving the epidemic. This also proved to be a bit of a downfall though, because many of the remaining Assamites joined the Sabbat afterwards. In today's modern age with rumors aplenty that they had somehow broken this curse, it was natural then for their clan to not only be mistrusted by others, but also feared due to their prowess in battle. Despite his own suspicions with them though, the Prince had made excellent use of a few of the more politically independent Assamites in the past, because while they were expensive, they were _very_ good at getting a job done right.

Moving those thoughts to the back of his mind, he exhaled deeply before reaching for the handle to the guest bedroom. He hesitated for a moment though, before deciding that knocking on the entrance instead would have been a much more respectful move to make rather than swinging it wide open without warning. Yet when no reply came, he opened the door and walked through anyway to find his ghoul sound asleep on the bed whose pillows were stained with blood that presumably had come from Katrina. Her breathing was light and there were a few soft snores escaping her mouth, but other than that she made no other movement.

Moving a little closer to Valeska, he froze on what action he should take next. A million problems he had been faced with in his past, and a million times he had made tough decisions concerning them, but rare was it that he ever locked up like this due to the overwhelming feeling of being lost. What was it about her that made him act like this? Was it her wide range of skills? The way in which she repeatedly challenged him whereas others feared to do so? Her delicious and addictive blood? Either way, the young woman was driving him absolutely insane even when she wasn't conscious, an experience that was pushing towards wanting to murder her just so he wouldn't have to deal with these distracting emotions anymore.

Sighing irritably, the Prince reached over and put his hand on her shoulder before roughly shaking her awake as he had no time to be gentle with her. Almost immediately when his fingers made contact with her skin though, her green eyes flew open as she eyed her master. Then, in a startling and completely unexpected move, she let out a blood curdling scream.

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**Author's Note: **Yes Prince LaCroix is a socially awkward penguin (props to those who know the meme) when it comes to anything gentle or even remotely romantic, or at least he is right now. In the future, I can safely say that his actions will be much like his personality though: if he wants something he will get it. Anyway, I hope this chapter was enjoyable for my readers. I know the bit about his past might have been a bit too cutesy at first or perhaps too harsh when it escalated, but I'm working on different styles of writing as I reveal more hints on why the Prince is as cold as he is. Anything my fans might tell me in regards to this will of course be much appreciated, so as always, drop a review on your thoughts. Thanks again everyone!


	36. Awakening the Beast

**Author's Note: **Alrighty, so here we have a chapter through Valeska's POV. It picks up almost right after she lost consciousness by giving insight into her near death experience. For me this chapter lies close to my heart, for little less than a year ago I had my own near death experience that very closely mirrors the one I wrote for Valeska. Not something I usually share so openly, but if it gives better insight into why I chose this route, then why not? Anyway, this chapter also has quite a bit of romance between Valeska and LaCroix, as it shows the first time in which they have any kind of real physical interaction. It's not much, and personally I think he might be slightly out of character, but let me know what you all think. Enjoy!

**Special Thanks: **Thank you very much to my new story followers who are Kalisca, Ambrii, and Nightlydeath89. I would also like to express my gratitude to those who favorite'd Secrets of Blood who are Nightlydeath89 and inutana. Finally, my reviewers know they have my eternal thanks but nonetheless I appreciate the support that Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, RavynKlaine, AluSoRandom, and Ambrii have given me with the previous chapters. You all keep me going when the going gets rough!

**Responses: **To Naruto Loves FemKyuubi: You didn't offend me lol, no worries! Also, as much as I would like to say my work is original, I can't deny the fact that my chapter on Nines had glaring similarities to another author's work. Anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed my portrayal of the blonde Prince and his family. Valeska will indeed try to talk him out of obsessing over the sarcophagus, but I can't say whether it will work or not at this point.

To RavynKlaine: No worries on not reviewing the last chapter, life tends to suck up time like mad. Yes Sebastian definitely lacks…tact when it comes to a relationship, though this chapter might better explain why. I'm pleased to see that you are enjoying things so far as events unfold, and if you ever have any ideas let em loose! =)

To AluSoRandom: Yay a new reviewer! Please don't think you're a horrible reviewer for not posting before, I tend to be a bit shy myself with these things. It's always nice to hear that my work is enjoyable for others, especially since I'm so paranoid about screwing up (especially with steamy scenes in which I have no experience). The plagiarism thing is understandable as if we're thinking about the same fanfic then it cannot be denied that they are similar with certain ideas. It's very difficult to make me feel uncomfortable so fear not; so long as there are no direct insults that have no constructive criticism then you are fine! ^_^ Your vocabulary and grammar is not nearly as bad as you think either, so feel free to share again in the future if you want as your review is more than readable. As for the vampire songs, one of my reviewers just likes to share inspiring works so that is probably where you noticed that. Thanks for the ideas!

To Ambrii: Another new reviewer, this must be my lucky day! Thank you very much for your positive words as they encourage me more than you might think. As for Valeska's nature, send me a PM if you'd like with your guess and I'll let you know if you're correct. I appreciate the fact that you've given me constructive criticism, since I'm always looking to improve my work. I've been worried for a while if my POV switches ever irritated anyone, but everyone (until you that is) told me that they enjoyed getting a look into the private look of some of the other characters. I can definitely understand why it would be annoying though, and since I've gotten enough practice with my writing at this point, I'll try not to switch POV's too often unless I absolutely have to for story purposes. From here on most POV's will be either through Valeska or LaCroix's eyes. As for their relationship, I'm still aiming for the realistic approach since LaCroix doesn't seem the type to fall in love easily. If he ever did I wanted it to seem like he would be annoyed with the situation at first as such feelings are highly unusual for a two hundred year old Ventrue Prince. He would try to distract himself with his work or even flat out deny his feelings with anger for the simple fact that love is a weakness that could be exploited by enemies or allies who disapprove of his private relationships. When it comes to their blood bond, I won't deny that Valeska's feelings are slightly influenced by it, but LaCroix is completely unaffected as besides tasting great, her blood has no means of bonding him to her unless you consider the fact that he finds it addicting. It's funny you should mention their romance now, as this chapter really starts to cement things between the two as well as give insight into how things are going to play out in regards to their romance. You weren't rude at all, so no worries about that! ^_^

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**Chapter 35 Awakening the Beast **

Valeska Latimer was floating in darkness. There was no bright light to comfort her nor was there was a heavenly father to guide her, just impenetrable darkness that prevented her from doing anything except drift aimlessly. It was a lonely feeling too, knowing that this was what she had to look forward to for the rest of eternity, and she couldn't help but wonder if this was because of the life she had led, the things she had done, or the fact that she had never really followed any specific religion. While her grandmother had always been a devote Christian, the ghoul herself preferred to avoid investing time in any organized religion, by instead placing her faith in science. That was not to say she was an atheist in any form of the word, as when her scientific beliefs failed, she often turned to more spiritual beliefs like reincarnation, the spirit world, etc. Every once in a while though, when the world seemed like it was caving in and she had no one else to turn to, she prayed. Not to anyone in particular either, but the chance that someone out there was actually listening to her was oddly comforting.

Now all of those troubles that once plagued her mind seemed so pointless, as her primary concern was dealing with the fact that she was dead now. She would never again see anyone she had cared about, she would never be able to prove herself to the world, and her very name would fade into the obscurity of history. Her current existence would leave her with nothing to do but to ache for the memories she had once experienced, while at the same time pondering on all the wrong she had ever done. Every person she had ever killed for a paycheck, every lie that she had ever told for protection, and every item she had every stolen just for the hell of it would have its events repeat themselves in her mind until she either ceased to be or simply went insane from it.

Then, without any form of warning her consciousness began to gather speed as she was hurtled towards something while the sound of eerie whispering filled her ears. Suddenly she felt as if she had been dropped from a substantial height, as the sensation of being weightless was immediately replaced with a crushing heaviness. When her eyes finally fluttered open in confusion, she realized two important details. The first which was undoubtedly the most noteworthy was that she was alive, and the second was that there was blood running down her throat that came from a small glass being tipped into her mouth by a blurry individual. Assuming it to be a vampire due to the flavorful taste, Valeska had soon greedily swallowed every bit of vitae that she had been granted, yet part of her desperately wanted more after she was done.

Sitting up in order to better request this desire, she was hit with an unexpected and overwhelming feeling of hunger. Her body literally felt like she was starving to death, and it was screaming to her that if she didn't acquire some form of sustenance soon then she would be back in that oblivion of crushing darkness. Add to the fact that her eyes weren't working properly, and her mind naturally began to panic as to where she was and if she was in any kind of danger. With a hazy mind that was barely registering minor details and senses that felt like they were nearly just as blind, it was no surprise then that she reacted violently when the blurry figure moved quickly to lay the ghoul back down on the bed. Thinking the worst case scenario she reached out for her assumed attacker, grasped them by their arm, and managed to dislocate their dainty shoulder. A muffled cracking sound along with what sounded like a woman's scream reached the ghoul's ears, but at this point she couldn't stop herself from continuing. It was like being a puppet on someone else's strings, in that she had no control over what she was doing all while being split between enjoying the incredible power she suddenly had at her fingertips and the fear that filled her.

It would have been incredibly difficult for Valeska to clearly explain what happened next, for her intense desire to satisfy her hunger had her literally jumping onto her attacker, tweaking her neck to the side, and biting roughly down on it as though she were an animal. She felt like an animal too, but after ripping off a thick piece of flesh in order to access the tangled bundles of bloody muscles and nerves underneath, the magnificent taste in her mouth had her completely forgetting all about her uncontrollable monstrous nature. All that mattered to her was the blood, and so long as she continued to experience the rush it gave her, she didn't care about the consequences.

Yet consequences there were, because although her opponent's blood was helping the ghoul's senses to return, her vision had her experience the startling realization that she was not only in LaCroix's penthouse, but the person she was drinking from was his secretary, Katrina. On her face was a horrified expression as she desperately tried to struggle away from Valeska, but the surprising amount of strength she had kept the vampire firmly in place. Despite the ghoul's reluctance in wanting to continue harming someone who had helped her in the past, she found herself unable to resist returning to her frenzied feeding. At least that had been her intention before she noticed that on the ground was a gigantic, towering shadow. On her back she felt something strong clamp down on her collar before she was torn away from Katrina and tossed across the room like a ragdoll. Her head hit something hard, her vision faded out, and that was pretty much all she remembered besides the sensation of having her body dragged across the floor.

The next thing she knew she was standing in a dense forest, obviously dreaming, but nevertheless not feeling comfortable with how dark her surroundings were. Glancing around for some kind of sign as to what she should do next as that was usually how her dreams worked, she observed that in the not too far away distance was the faint glow of what she assumed could have been anything at this point. This was her sleeping mind after all, so for all she knew the glow could have been a Vortigaunt from the Half Life series powering some generator. That possibility seemed unlike however, seeing as how the light was orange and not green, but one could never know what to expect from the unconscious.

Deciding that this was the path she should follow, she began walking towards the faint light only to find that she was moving at an incredibly sluggish pace. Attempting to run didn't seem to work either, for no matter how hard she tried to increase her speed, she continued moving as though she were in slow motion. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally reached the source of the light, though after pulling aside a few branches of one of the pine trees, she was met with the image of someone she had least expected to see, her father, Viktor Latimer. A feeling of intense shock swept over her, not only because she was standing in front of a dead person, but because he strongly resembled the mental picture of him that she had clung to over the years. After all, she only had but a single physical photo of the man that she kept safely hidden from the rest of the world, so relying on memories were often more effective than risking the damage of one of her most precious belongings.

Sitting on a fallen log in front of a roaring fire he must have built himself, her pale skinned father, who hadn't aged a day since she last saw him, stared up at her with bright green eyes that gave her the sense that he was expecting her. With his long auburn hair tied back behind his shoulders, his single pendant of a pentagram, and his crooked nose, he held the overall image of a wise wizard. The only thing he lacked really were the flowing robes and long beard, but she supposed that a chin of stubble and jeans that had seen better days would simply have to do for now. Holding out a hand that was decorated with several ornate rings, he gestured for her to sit across from him, and while she did as she was instructed, she made the mental note of how realistic the forest ground felt.

"It's wonderful to see you, Valeska," her father greeted with a warm smile, "You've grown into a beautiful young woman."

"Uhm…thanks, dad," Valeska acknowledged, not really sure what else to say. She wished she could have forced her mind into pretending that this wasn't a dream so that she could better enjoy the illusion, but in the end there was no looking past it. Normally when she was aware that she was asleep she would wake up, but since this had not yet occurred, she simply chose to enjoy the time she had with her dad, even if he were imaginary.

"I realize you must miss me terribly, but the time we have here is short," he announced.

"You mean I'll be waking up from my dream soon?" the ghoul asked, feeling disappointed.

"Yes and no," Viktor answered, his almond shaped eyes staring intently at her from behind his glasses, "Yes in that you will be gone from here soon, but no in the sense that this is _not_ a dream. At least, not in the normal sense that you might attribute your usual sleeping mind to be like."

"That doesn't make any sense. Sure this dream may feel very real, but I've had ones similar to it in the past," Valeska pointed out, her voice full of skepticism, "I mean I know you're dead, so what else would this be? The afterworld?"

"There's no time to explain, your Prince is approaching," her father rushed as he quickly stood from his fallen tree branch and moved towards his daughter. Valeska had to crane her head up just to meet his eyes, as she had forgotten how tall he was. His height didn't match the Sheriff's, but he was certainly tall for the average person as well as quite thin too. "Now I need you to listen to me very carefully, alright?"

"Well okay, but why are you so worried about the Prince? I don-" she began after standing up.

"No time!" he interrupted, his voice full of concern, "I did you a great disservice by leaving you in this world with so many questions and no answers, but now that you've entered the world of vampires you need to know what you are."

"What I am…father I am just a ghoul serving a vampire Prince. My friend, Mercurio, has already taught me all about being one, so what else is there to know?" Valeska asked, "And besides, the only question you left me with was why you chose to abandon me. At the time it made me think that I did something wrong as your daughter, but only now after two whole decades have I realized that you were probably in some kind of trouble. Just what happened to make you leave so suddenly?" On her father's face was a pained expression as he pulled his daughter into a tight hug, which in turn allowed her to take in his mixed scent of incense and tobacco. It was just as she had remembered him, but it something that had her torn between happily smiling and crying just because it made her think of all the happy times that they had shared, but would never again experience. A perfect set of words to describe it? Yearning nostalgia.

"I…I am so sorry, sweet pea, but this cannot be discussed further right now. When the sun next sets you need to see Maximillian Strauss. He will have the answers you seek," Viktor continued, his voice gentle as he spoke in her ear. Then, the image of her father and the feeling of his embrace began to slowly fade away as she felt like someone was trying to wake her up.

"Dad? Dad, I can't see you!" the ghoul exclaimed anxiously as she put her arms in front of her in order to fumble about blindly. "Dad, where are you? Please, I've missed you so bad. I don't want to leave yet!"

"I know sweet pea, but you don't have a choice. We will speak again, but I need you to heed my warning, Valeska, do NOT trust Sebastian LaCroix," her father cautioned, "Do you understand me?"

"Dad, please, I don't want to leave!" she repeated, as she felt hot tears streaming down her face.

"Valeska, listen to me!" her father ordered, his voice stern, "Do not trust your Prince!" The ghoul's eyes suddenly shot open as she tried to get a handle on her surroundings. At least, that had been her primary concern until she saw that standing next to her was a very irritated Prince still dressed in his bloody attire. She hadn't intended to let a scream loose, but with the combination of the dream she had just had and the fact that he had almost killed her earlier, she found herself less in control of her emotions than she would have liked. Was he going to attack her again? Was he here to extract revenge on her for feeding from his secretary? She had no idea, but her first reaction was to defend herself by any means necessarily. Therefore, while still screaming like an idiot and not entirely sure if she were even awake at this point, she picked up the nearest object, a lamp, and launched it towards the wide eyed Prince who easily stepped to the side to avoid being hit.

"Stay away from me!" she shrieked, as she scurried to the opposite side of the bed.

"Miss Latimer! Restrain yourself!" the Ventrue Prince commanded in a powerful tone that made her want to obey, "I am not here to hurt you, now calm down!" Still breathing heavily (almost to the point of hyperventilating), her eyes darted anxiously from her boss who looked surprisingly concerned, to every possible exit that was open to her. There were only two, though because the windows entailed certain death if she slipped, the only one that was really open to the panicky ghoul was the room's entrance which was currently blocked by LaCroix. Part of her knew she was overreacting to what was happening, but her normal levels of paranoia, which were usually quite high as is, were further heightened from the intense dream she had just experienced. It seemed so foolish to be emotionally compromised by something like that too, but with everything she had dealt with in the past few weeks made the possibility of being contacted by the dead seem very real. If that was really what had happened, then her father wouldn't have wasted his energy on false words. The Prince was dangerous, and more than likely he was here to hurt her. Therefore, her only way to escape the situation unscathed was to attempt to talk her way out of it.

"Not gonna hurt me, huh? After I tore out your secretary's throat and threw a lamp at you? Yeah right!" Valeska babbled out, placing a pillow in front of her in some feeble attempt at protection.

"Those things are insignificant to me," her boss stated as he slowly inched his way towards her.

"Yeah? Then why are you here?" the ghoul questioned with suspicion, following his actions closely with her eyes. "And stop moving towards me like I don't know what you're doing." The Prince stopped in his tracks and raised his hands slightly, a sign of peace that he was surrendering to her request.

"I am here to check on your condition, to acknowledge your earlier actions, and to apologize for mine," LaCroix responded, as he watched her just as carefully. It was like two hawks staring one another down while they analyzed the tense situation and plotted their future moves. "I understand at this point that your faith in me must be shaken, but I give you my word that I will not harm you. All I am requesting of you is that you trust me just a while longer so that I can answer for my crimes against you." He paused when he noticed that Valeska was lowering her guard ever so slightly; damn Ventrues and their silver tongues. "Now may I approach you without fear of having my face smashed in?"

"I…" she began before hanging her head in defeat. She wanted to tell him no, that he could go fuck himself by watching a sunrise for all she cared, but for as much as she desired to say this, she knew she couldn't. It wasn't because he held her grandmother's life in his hands either, but because despite all the flaws he seemed to possess, she still cared for him deeply. At the same time she despised him nearly just as much, and she sure as hell didn't need her father telling her not to trust the man. However, the harder she tried to believe that she hated his guts, the more she felt like she was literally being torn in two. Sure seeing him right next to her bed covered in blood had been terrifying at first (especially after she had attacked his secretary), but now that the initial shock was wearing off, she was beginning to comprehend just how relieved she was. Seeing him near death had not been an easy thing for her to witness, and although it wasn't much, a bit of her previous anxiety was being lifted now that she knew for certain that his health had improved. Was this because they shared a blood bond? Perhaps, but despite her concern with this being the primary reason for her feelings, something inside told her that it wasn't the only reason for them existing.

Nodding to let him know he could safely approach her, she observed her boss cautiously moving around to the other side of the bed with his hands still up. At this point she knew without a doubt that he wasn't going to hurt her, but as he neared her, the ghoul felt herself tearing up nonetheless. Seeing it as a sign of weakness, she had always despised crying and even more so when it was in front of someone else. Yet she couldn't stop the tears from falling, and not because she was afraid, but for the simple fact that there was just too much going on in her mind. The realistic dream of her father was still fresh in her overwhelmed mind, as well as the intense feelings of aching nostalgia she had for those memories. The time spent with him was the only time she could ever remember feeling safe, as though her grandma had provided a decent amount of security, the days spent being bullied in school constantly had the ghoul on the defensive. Now everyone she knew that could effectively comfort her either lived hundreds of miles away like her grandmother or in an entirely different plane of existence like her father. She was completely alone, which meant that the only person she really had at that moment who could immediately help her, was the Prince.

"May I sit he-?" her boss began softly. Valeska didn't give him a chance to finish his question though, for in one singular movement she tossed the pillow she was clutching to the side and threw her arms around his neck. At first he seemed shocked at her move to hug him, for his entire body tensed up as his arms stayed at his sides like he was a stone statue of a soldier. He didn't say anything either as she started to sob quietly into his shoulder that smelled of old blood, but soon he slowly brought his arms up around her as he sat down on the bed and pulled her closer into their embrace. It had been months, years even, since she had last received a real hug of any kind that did not occur in her dreams, and though she had initiated this one, the feeling was still incredibly comforting coming from a dead man who had turned her life upside down. The two remained that way for a short time, with the vampire remaining silent as his ghoul released her sorrows. She never wanted this moment of theirs to end, but even though it gave her a sense of safety, she knew that like all good things, it would have to eventually.

"I'm sorry, sir," Valeska apologized after quite some time. She was no longer crying, but her cheeks were stained from the previous tears that had her red eyes burning slightly. "I don't know what came over me."

"It is of no concern," was all the Prince said with surprising gentleness as he continued to hold her. There was no real reason for him to do that either, but she was glad that he had yet to move away. "You've been through quite a lot this evening, which I believe the two of us can both agree was primarily my doing."

"I don't care about that, I'm just glad you're alright," the ghoul admitted as she pulled away from him in order to gaze into his confused eyes. Obviously he wasn't able to comprehend the fact that someone in the world had been genuinely concerned for him. "And you don't have to apologize for something that wasn't your fault. You were shot up and bleeding to death, so I knew the risk I was taking when I offered myself to you."

"I…don't understand. My lack of control nearly killed you, and you're behaving as though these actions do not warrant some form of apology. Why?" LaCroix questioned with mild suspicion that surprised Valeska. He truly and honestly did not understand the concept of love in the slightest, and though she had not yet admitted such feelings to him, she had assumed he would have been intelligent enough to realize this on his own. Instead he still seemed legitimately confused as he uttered words that accurately mirrored his paranoia. It was like he wasn't able to handle any form of affection, and she was probably lucky that the two had been hugging only moments ago.

"Well I'm alive now, aren't I? Besides, you attacked me, and I attacked your secretary. I'd say that makes us even," she offered with a weak smile. "Though it still unnerves me because I've never done anything like that in the past. Did I…frenzy or something? Can ghouls even do that?"

"They can," the Ventrue vampire answered slowly, still wearing an expression that looked like he was partially unconvinced of her words. "Often when a ghoul is placed in a high stress environment or a near death situation they react much as a vampire would. Miss Thornton is perfectly fine however, so there is no need to fret over those actions. In the future though, do not be surprised if she seems uneasy around you." He paused and looked over his ghoul for a moment. "Are you…certain that you do not require an apology?"

"I'm sure, though I wouldn't mind hearing how much you appreciated what I did," Valeska teased with a small smirk. Oh geez, was she actually flirting with him now? One minute she's literally attacking the poor guy, the next she's crying in his arms, and now the night ends with her playfully flirting with him. She was as unpredictable as he was, worse even, and she knew he must have been thinking the same thing for the surprised expression on his face was priceless. "Uhm…sorry sir, that was a joke."

"I see, well nevertheless I do appreciate your actions to save my life. Without them I would have undoubtedly perished so ah…thank you," he acknowledged with an awkward expression and a short nod. Clearly he was not used to such displaying his appreciation, at least, not on a personal level that was not work related. It made the ghoul wonder if he had ever shared a romantic relationship with the opposite gender in the past, for the current evidence made her think that he had not, or at the very best he had forgotten what being romantic was like. Perhaps she was just reading his intentions wrong.

"You're very welcome. I can't say I'm anxious to die again, but should events similar to the one that occurred earlier repeat themselves, then know that I'll be there to help you if I can," she promised with a warm smile as she took his hand and squeezed it. It was her way of showing that she cared, but as soon as they made physical contact, he quickly retracted his hand as though she had burned him. Clearing his throat, LaCroix quickly rose from the bed and straightened his obviously ruined suit.

"So that's that then," her boss stated, while on his face were signs that he was disturbed by the situation; another hint then that he was either unfamiliar or uncomfortable with tender moments. "You will stay here for the remainder of the evening. Tomorrow you may either stay or go, though I would recommend that you remain in order to continue recovering."

"Even without vampire blood I'm a quick healer, but I wouldn't mind sticking around for a little bit. Just until I'm feeling better anyway," the ghoul said, feeling more than a little frustrated that he had returned to his business as usual attitude so quickly.

"Very well, then tomorrow I shall return to check up on your status," the Prince assured as he moved to exit the room.

"Wait!" she exclaimed as he turned back around a little too quickly to acknowledge her request. A little unusual for someone who was supposed to view her as a disposable pawn, something that she knew without a doubt she was, but she found herself smiling inside at his actions anyway.

"Yes?" LaCroix asked. On his face was an expression that made it seem like he didn't really want to leave her side just yet. In fact, it practically looked like he was just waiting for her to say the right words so that he could remain. If only she had the courage to do such a thing she would have, but she knew that she was a chicken shit when it came to these kinds of things. Sure she had experience with relationships in the past, but it had always been the opposite party that had ever initiated anything. She herself was much too shy to be so confident, and she was actually surprised that she had gotten as far with the Prince as she had.

"I just…well I…" she began, her voice wavering as her words stuck in her throat, "I think the reason I attacked you earlier was because I was having a nightmare. Just wake me up gently tomorrow okay? I don't want to throw another lamp at you."

"As you wish," the Prince simply nodded as he matched her weak smile with a subtle look of disappointment. She felt bad, but what was she supposed to do? Invite him to share the bed with her? It was certainly large enough that the two of them would never even touch once should either of them wish that, but with his concern for his reputation he would surely turn her down if she even offered something like that anyway. Was there any harm in asking though? Well yes, but no one ever achieved anything without putting forth a bit of effort that was inspired by either bravery or stupidity.

"I mean, I know I might sleep better with someone here with me, but asking that of you would just be stupid right?" Valeska hinted at with a bit of forced laughter, her cheeks burning hot with embarrassment. "Heh, a vampire Prince sharing a bed with his ghoul…that sounds like a bad comedy show that's destined to be canceled after its first season." The ghoul felt unbelievably stupid as well as incredibly awkward, but when she looked to her boss she was shocked to see that he seemed to be seriously considering it.

"Considering the circumstances, I believe it would be highly inappropriate for me to take advantage of the situation," he informed his ghoul quietly, making it so it was Valeska's turn to feel disappointed. He had put out all the right signs, so what was his deal? In a way it seemed like he wanted to get close to her, but that he was just as terrified as her to take the next step.

"No I understand, I wasn't implying anything," the ghoul quickly lied.

"Yes you were," the Ventrue vampire countered as Valeska opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water. She felt like such an idiot, and after flat out lying to his face these feelings were intensified. "Obviously I would not feel comfortable slumbering in the same bed as you, though not for the reasons you might think. I can however, remain here until you either fall asleep, or the sun starts to rise." Valeska's eyebrows shot up in surprise, for though she was truly grateful for his gesture, it was one she had not been expecting. "Consider it my way of saying thanks for a job well done."

"Thank you, sir. I just really don't want to be alone right now," Valeska confessed.

"Understandable," her boss acknowledged before closing the room's curtains and dragging over the arm chair that was previously located in the room's corner. Sitting upon it with perfect posture, he crossed his legs, folded his hands over one another, and made eye contact with his ghoul. Even when he was in such a disheveled state of frizzy blonde hair and a completely ruined suit, he somehow maintained that powerful impression of absolute confidence. She had yet to meet another Ventrue, so she could not accurately state that each and every one of them behaved like that. However, it still had her wondering if all vampires from his clan were naturally that way or just the one sitting next to her.

Deciding that it didn't really matter, she broke his unwavering stare and slid under her covers. She wasn't really tired, and even less so knowing that her boss was watching her. Sure it made her feel safe knowing that he was there, as in a way he was watching over her like a guardian angel would. This was an undeniably comforting feeling, but at the same time she couldn't help wonder why he would agree to do such a thing. Surely he had more important things to do in regards to being Prince of LA, so was this simply another attempt to manipulate her? He already owned her life to the point where he could order her to do anything he desired, so that possibility seemed unlikely.

However, when she disregarded that aspect the only two reasonable options left were that he either felt guilty about frenzying, or that his actions really were genuine in nature. The former was much more believable than the latter, for she could only imagine how horrible it must have felt for a Camarilla Prince to lose control and attack his ghoul, not to even mention the political implications of these actions. Mercurio had been quite avid in teaching her about some of the more prominent stances the Camarilla took on a wide range of issues, for the simple reason that she had to be educated of their ideas due to the fact that she worked for them and all. Therefore she was well aware of the political shit storm that LaCroix probably had headed his way, but again this had her wondering why he wasn't currently tackling that issue while he still had the time. If she continued to place her faith in the idea that he felt bad about frenzying or hurting her then it made sense, but she got the feeling he was also doing it because he sincerely wanted to.

"You know, you don't have to stay here if you don't want to. I realize that you probably have a lot of work to contend to with the attack and all, so if you want to leave you can," Valeska told her boss after turning on her side to face him. He didn't appear as though he were upset when she spoke of this, but he did raise an eyebrow at her statement.

"I'm well aware of my options, Miss Latimer, but I'm here precisely because I wish to be," LaCroix revealed as he leaned forward slightly, "Would you rather I wasn't?"

"Uh not at all, sir," the ghoul courteously replied, "I just want to make sure I'm not wasting your time or anything." She paused, her mind desperately trying to find some way to change the awkward conversation before settling on something that had been plaguing her mind with curiosity since she woke up. "Forgive me for changing topics so suddenly, but I have a question for you that's been driving me crazy. Do you think family members can contact their living relatives after they die? Not like if they're vampires or what not, but if they're dead, dead, as in no quick loads or extra lives."

"Evidence that spirits haunt the location of their passing has been documented by some of the more academically inclined vampires, so I suppose the answer would be yes," he answered without so much as batting an eyelash at her question. It was certainly an odd one to ask out of the blue, but seeing as how he probably dealt with Malkavians on a nightly basis it was no surprise that any hint of confusion was entirely absent on his face.

"Yeah, and humans have television shows dedicated to proving their existence, but I didn't ask what some professional says. I asked what you thought," Valeska clarified, hoping her revised statement wouldn't sound rude. LaCroix tilted his head thoughtfully.

"I have only ever once encountered a small group of angry spirits or poltergeists if you will, in my past," the Ventrue vampire responded, apparently not fazed by her choice of words. "Over a century ago my sire requested that I acquire an artifact of great importance to him, but that proved to be quite problematic as it was in the ruins of what used to be an ancient tribal village. The deceased ancestors of that place were just as dedicated to guarding their home as they were in life, and as such were not pleased when I disturbed their ashes."

"What happened next?" she inquired, leaning forward with interest at his attention grabbing story. Ever since she had learned that vampires existed, she had always wanted to interrogate one so that she could learn how the world used to work centuries ago, but settling on tales of their conquests was just as good. Seeing her obvious fascination with his account seemed to please LaCroix too, for she noticed a small smile creep up on his face. If there was one thing she had learned about men in the past, it was that they loved sharing details on how they had overcome some challenging obstacle. With someone like the Prince who clearly loved talking about himself, it was clear he was more than content with the current situation.

"I retrieved the artifact, a tribal priestess's necklace, and escaped into the jungle. Ghosts don't really pose the threat that the entertainment industry loves to portray to the public, so the most I actually suffered were a few mild cuts and bruises from having objects flung at me," Prince LA continued, waving his hand indifferently.

"Fascinating…" the ghoul said, realizing that she sounded much too similar to one of her favorite characters from the Original Star Trek series. "But have you ever been contacted by a deceased family member, maybe through a dream or something…?" The Prince said nothing as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"No," her boss denied in a flat tone of voice. Judging from the way he was reacting she knew he was being dishonest, but for what reason she wasn't sure. "Why are you asking me these questions anyway?"

"Just curious I guess," she shrugged nonchalantly; the last thing she wanted to do was to have her boss believing she was some kind of loony by telling him she had been contacted by her father from beyond the grave. "I tend to be a skeptic when it comes to these kinds of things, and I always look for the first piece of logical evidence before jumping to any sort of conclusion. In the past I've had questionable dreams about my father though, so it just makes me wonder if anyone else has ever experienced something similar is all." An awkward silence drifted between the two, as the ghoul wondered if she had said something to offend the Prince.

"I have occasionally dreamt of my family in the past," he finally divulged softly, "Specifically my sister as we were quite close." His words were short and to the point, but they conveyed more about the man than he probably intended to let on. On his face was the same mournful expression that had flittered briefly across his face when he had spoken of his sister before, but this time around it actually stayed there. Clearly his sister had probably been the most important person in his life at some point, and try as he might to act as though he didn't care, it was clear that the hardened leader had a soft side to him.

"Danielle…right?" Valeska guessed, hoping the name she recalled him using in the past was the correct one. Luckily it was, for he nodded in return to her query. "She was really important to you, wasn't she?"

"Irrelevant, she's gone now," Prince LA countered, naturally trying to put up the strong front he was used to portraying for the public. While still under the bed sheets, Valeska sat up and scooted a little closer to where he was sitting so that he could clearly see that his ghoul wore an unconvinced facial expression.

"Let's pretend for a minute that you don't see me as a complete idiot, sir," the ghoul challenged, hoping her statement wouldn't upset her boss too badly. "It's obvious you're in pain and trying to bury that pain with work isn't going to make you forget her memory. Trust me, I know." For a moment it seemed like he might angrily snap at her, but he stopped short of doing this for some reason. Perhaps it was the sincere look of concern she wore, or maybe it was because he knew she was right, but either way he said nothing as he rose from the armchair he was seated in.

"Your concern is noted, but the sun will be rising and I must retire to my chambers," the Ventrue vampire proclaimed as he began walking towards the room's entrance. He made no effort to meet her eyes which were full of disbelief, but before he shut the door he did look over his shoulder to say one last farewell. "Sleep well, Valeska."

"You too, Sebastian…" she exchanged in the hopes that using his first name wouldn't be too informal. With that he closed her door softly as his footsteps could be heard echoing down the marble floored hallway. Flopping backwards onto her pillows, the ghoul let out an irritated sigh as she assumed she must have done something wrong. Looking to her right though, she saw a faint bit of early sunlight peeking through her curtains which signaled to her that his abrupt leaving hadn't been her fault. However, she could not disregard the fact that the Prince had been noticeably disturbed by her choice of conversation topics.

She could completely understand where he was coming from in not wanting to discuss his sister's death though, as she actively avoided talking about her own father's passing. Still, it wasn't healthy, and after two centuries of keeping something so personal buried so deep, it was no wonder he had shut down like he had. After all, it was much easier for someone to run away from their personal problems by distracting themselves with work rather than to confront them. Valeska had seen him tackle a wide range of challenging issues in the past, but again, he clearly had problems when dealing with anything intimate. Whether this was because he had abandonment issues he had not yet moved on from, or that he was simply terrified of commitment, she had no idea. All she knew for sure was that seeing this side to the Prince was all she needed to have her realize that she was not working for the monster she had originally thought he was. Of course that didn't cancel out the cold, calculating, and brutal manner he employed when he wanted something, but that didn't mean that he had abandoned every aspect of his humanity. It was strange to think about too, but their short moment of tenderness gave her hope. Not a lot of hope, but enough to where she felt quite happy as she closed her eyes to sleep.

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**Author's Note: **Ok, first let me clarify again that while the Prince is distant right now, it will not stay that way forever. That doesn't mean he's going to treat Valeska like a princess in the near future either, as anyone who has ever dated would know that a realistic relationship has plenty of tears, heartbreak, and jealousy. Depending on the situation though, he will be less inclined to yell at her fortunately. The next chapter will also be through Valeska's POV, as we finally learn what she is! That is, if you haven't already figured it out yourself at this point since I've dropped several clues. =P Anyway, as always let me know how you enjoyed the chapter, and if you didn't, why that is. Drop ideas, share compliments, bestow criticism, etc. Thanks again!


	37. And the Truth Shall Set You Free

**Author's Note: **Alright, now I know I promised to reveal what Valeska is in this chapter, but I went well over the amount I usually write for most chapters. I have a lot of information that's going to be revealed in the next chapter though, so please don't be mad that I've chosen to extend this one! Anyway, a lot happens in this so I hope that you enjoy it!

**Special Thanks:** Thank you so much to AluSoRandom for not only faving and following my story, Secrets of Blood, but for doing the same to me as an author! I would also like to acknowledge my reviewers, all of which who have helped me greatly, and who are RavynKlaine, Haruhana, Ambrii, Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, and AluSoRandom.

**Responses:** To RavynKlaine: I think you're closer to the answer than you think, so keep speculating! To answer your one question, Val will be visiting Strauss in this chapter. Also, thank you for your kind words on my writing style! I have worked on my own novels in the past, but without feedback I got bored and gave up. I've been thinking about returning to them, but I'm not sure.

To Haruhana: I always pictured LaCroix as being very cold and calculating, but not evil per say as that always depends on your perceptions of what is right and wrong. Vampires themselves often skirt the lines of not only humanity but morality I'm sure on what is a daily basis, but fear not. The Prince will grow to be a bit more compassionate in time. =)

To Ambrii: Yes I've seen author's do that in the past, which I can understand to some degree, but in the end I want to improve my work, not drive away my readers lol. The next chapter will explain in more detail about Valeska's blood, but we've already spoken in private a bit more about what she is so you've probably got it all figured out anyway. Happy to hear you enjoyed the last chapter's warm and fuzziness, but I assure you that the blood given to her was Katrina's. She was just attached because there was literally else no one around to go to, not to mention her already present feelings.

To Sasha: My version of LaCroix will eventually divulge his previous heartbreaks, but you're mostly right. From what has been shared so far, the Prince has seemingly never experienced love from either of his parents (except when he was very young), and his sire killed his first ghoul before anything could develop between them. The only love he has felt that we know of so far is from his sister, a reason I'm sure is why he can't let her go.

To AluSoRandom: Oh no! I looked everywhere in my reviews to see if you had posted before, but the only person I could find with a similar name was AluVkisser. Was this you before posting with a different account? As for the near death experience, that is very close to how it felt for me, but as for others I cannot say. Some people have claimed they've seen god or other religious figures, but for me it was what was described in the previous chapter as I had coded (no heartbeat) in the ER. I can tell you more if you'd like through a PM as it is quite personal to discuss. Anyway, in regards to the rest of your review, I don't blame you for wanting to hit LaCroix because I HATE the Nosferatu Warrens more than anything too! From here on out I shall refrain from announcing in the beginning anything romantic, as I hadn't thought that it might ruin romantic moments. Thanks for the tip! =)

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**Chapter 36 And the Truth Shall Set You Free**

Besides a few flashes here and there that didn't quite make sense, Valeska Latimer experienced no other dreams for the remainder of the day. In a way it was more than a little disappointing, as she had been hoping to see her father again. However, when one has their mind preoccupied with the future occurrence of a certain blonde Prince visiting them again, they find themselves much too excited to bother with something as distracting as sleep. All day this was exactly what the ghoul had been dealing with too, as right as her eyes would open she would immediately find them anxiously drifting to her curtains to determine whether or not the sun had set. Each time had seen light peeking through from the high noon's sun, and each time she found herself sighing with frustration as she flipped back onto her stomach.

It seemed so stupid to her to be sacrificing her much needed shut eye too, but the butterflies fluttering in her stomach with anticipation had her wondering how LaCroix would wake her up. She had requested that he be gentle when approaching her, but what could be considered as gentle to her could have meant something entirely different to a Ventrue vampire. For her that meant that she was hoping he might employ a passionate kiss to bring her forth from her slumber, but that kind of thing belonged in childish fairytales. LaCroix may have been a Prince, but he was nothing like the generic prince charming individuals in the stories her grandmother used to tell at her bedside. Sure he had the looks, wealth, and charm, but honestly his behavior often seemed too villainous to be placed in the same category as the hero. That wasn't to say her boss was going to turn into a fire breathing dragon or kidnap a princess any time soon (not that she wouldn't mind being kidnapped by him), but he certainly had the temper, manipulative streak, ambitious nature, and ego of a villain.

This villain title would have been one that she would naturally continue to associate him with, that is, if it hadn't been for the previous evening. His kind actions and choice of words in particular were still fresh in her mind, and the surprise of said events had almost been enough to distract her from the fact that she had frenzied. This little detail was something else that had been keeping her from sleeping soundly, because frankly, the idea that she had completely lost control and almost killed someone terrified her. Sure she had attacked other people, killed them even, but that had always been in self-defense, because she had been contracted to do so, or in the case of her latest murder of the Malkavian ghoul, John, a mercy killing.

Katrina had never done anything wrong to harm the ghoul, and when Valeska had first been brought into the world of vampires, the helpful Toreador secretary was the first decent person she had met before Mercurio. Knowing that she had torn open her neck and tried to drain her dry was unnerving, though not just because Katrina was an innocent person, but because part of her actually _enjoyed_ giving into her desires. The power she had been granted was beyond incredible, and reaping the rewards aka vampire blood, was worth the small lump she had gotten to the side of her skull when she had been thrown across the room. Additionally, having a mind free of any worries or hesitations in harming another was astonishingly advantageous so long as she didn't let her guilt overcome her. Now if she could only learn to control such chilling impulses, then frenzying could have some serious benefits like being able to hold down a vampire with little to no effort. That in of itself was more than a little surprising, because she had always figured that ghouls were weaker than the famed creatures of the night. However, her recollection of the previous evening clearly showed her differently so perhaps her assumption of ghouls simply did not hold true for when they frenzied. Either way she knew that no matter how much power she may have gained, it was not something that could be easily controlled as from what Mercurio had told her, frenzying was more like a super natural flight or fight response that took on an extreme approach. So really then, any rational person would know that it was probably best to avoid entering that state at all costs to avoid being discovered by human authorities or to prevent the death of those they cared for.

Eventually after her mind ceased to contemplate the Prince, frenzying, and other random bits of information, she drifted off to sleep. She stayed that way for several hours too, until an abrupt knocking tore her from her blissful snooze. However, instead of sitting up, she pretended to remain asleep so that her boss would have no choice but to enter. Was it a manipulative thing to do? Maybe, but what woman at some point in their lives hadn't feigned unconsciousness to lure in their crush? Yet these actions wound up not mattering anyway, as when the door creaked open she heard the sound of high heels clicking on the tile. They definitely didn't belong to any man, so unless the Prince had taken to cross dressing which she highly doubted, then it wasn't him. The next sound to reach the ghoul's ears was of someone who sounded feminine clearing their throat.

"Miss Latimer…?" a female voice asked, one that obviously belonged to a cautious Katrina. Rolling over, Valeska eyed the nervous secretary with disappointment since her anticipated Ventrue guest had been replaced with that of a Toreador. She supposed she couldn't have been too surprised though, since her rather forward approach of wanting to help him before had probably scared him off. Oh well, that was most men for her.

"Yes?" the ghoul returned as she let her eyes adjust to the light seeping into the room from the hallway. It wasn't that bright, but it was just enough for her to be reminded of Katrina's physical beauty and stylish choice in clothing; as was the norm for most Toreadors she supposed.

"Prince LaCroix has requested that I check up on your condition. How do you feel?" the Toreador inquired courteously. Even though she was being polite, Valeska could tell by the secretary's anxious body language that she truly did not want to be there.

"I'm alright. A little groggy from just waking up, but otherwise fine," Valeska replied as she sat up and tried to ignore the fearful tension coming from the woman standing in her doorway. "I uh, have to admit that I was expecting Sebastian to wake me up himself."

"Why ever would you think such a thing?" Katrina questioned with confusion steadily creeping over her face.

"Because he told me he would…" she responded slowly, before mentally reminding herself that the Prince was a busy man. He had no time to waste on waking up his ghoul when he had a city to run and a reputation to maintain. Still, the damage was done at this point because Valeska could practically see the gears turning in Katrina's mind.

"Well routine tasks like this are usually appointed to me," the secretary explained, her comment causing the ghoul to raise an eyebrow with curiosity.

"Routine? Does he usually have several different women spending the night or something?" the ghoul enquired, trying to hide her mild jealousy. The Prince didn't seem like the type to have several mistresses, but even though this was only a slight possibility, it upset her more than she thought it would. Before the secretary could answer Valeska's query, she slid out of bed and noticed that Katrina had taken a step backwards.

"O-of course not," was all she managed to stammer out. Now although there were probably plenty of people out there that would revel in the power they had over another due to the fear they inspired, such a feeling was not something that put a smile on Valeska's face. Instead, she found herself full of guilt, as though it wasn't necessarily her fault she attacked the woman, she still felt bad about doing so.

"Listen, about last night…I'm really, _really_ sorry. I have no idea what came over me when I attacked you," Valeska apologized as she paused a moment to scratch at her upper arm in an embarrassed fashion. "I'm told I frenzied, but I'm still getting used to this whole ghoul thing. It still doesn't excuse my actions or anything, but I just wanted to let you know that I really regret what I did, and to make a promise that I'm not going to hurt you. Can you forgive me?" With the combination of her apology and the weak smile she gave the Toreador, Katrina's shoulders seemed to relax ever so slightly.

"Thank you, Miss Latimer, I really appreciate hearing that from you," the secretary acknowledged, "I accept your apology, and I forgive you, since every vampire or ghoul at some point in their life has lost control. Personally I'm more worried about you, seeing as how this was your first time frenzying as well as being frenzied on…"

"Yeah, hell of a night…" the ghoul agreed quietly, averting her eyes in the process and deciding to remain silent about how good it actually felt when she had frenzied herself. "I doubt either of us is anxious to relive that moment, so let's change topics for now."

"Good idea," Katrina commented with a nod. "The Prince told me that he required your presence anyway, so best not to keep him waiting."

"Did he say why?" Valeska inquired, wanting to know what to expect ahead of time.

"I'm sorry, but no. He hasn't said much to anyone this evening, but then again that's probably because of his preoccupation with the Elizabeth Dane," the Toreador vampire explained as the ghoul shot her a puzzled look. "You mean you haven't heard of it?" Valeska shook her head no. "Oh, well I don't know the specifics myself, but the Elizabeth Dane is a cargo ship that was found lost at sea. Supposedly it's carrying a sarcophagus, but there have been whispers in the community that it might be Kindred in origin."

"A vampire sarcophagus huh? I wonder if it has a mummy inside of it…" the ghoul wondered aloud without thinking, "Man what I wouldn't give to be there when they pry that sucker open…" Valeska glanced upwards to see Katrina frowning in disapproval. "Oh, uhm…sorry, I'm kind of an ancient history lover who finds that possibility insanely interesting."

"That's fine; I'm kind of excited about it too," the secretary confessed, "What I can't figure out though is why so many of the higher ranking individuals on the West Coast are anxious about its arrival."

"Why would century old vampires be scared of an ancient box?" she asked in partial disbelief.

"Oh I don't know. They're probably afraid that there's an antediluvian inside or something else equally idiotic," Katrina scoffed as she rolled her eyes, "Everyone knows those ridiculous stories are false, but it won't stop the Sabbat from going to war over it anyway. I suppose a potential war is might be why it has the Prince worried at least." Valeska said nothing as she felt even more confused, and apparently her facial expression accurately mirrored these feelings for Katrina gave her a smile of obvious sympathy. "Listen don't worry about any of this right now. If the Prince thinks it's necessary to tell you about the political implications of the sarcophagus, then he will. In the meantime, I would ask Mercurio for a vampire history lesson after you speak with LaCroix."

"Thanks for the recommendation, I'll be sure to do that," Valeska acknowledged as she went to leave the room. "Uh, actually, do you have any clothes I can change into? These ones are kind of…filthy."

"Agreed, but have no fear. The attire collection I purchased for you is still here," Katrina revealed as she opened the closet door, "I was ordered to return it, but the Prince changed his mind at the last minute…" The Toreador tilted her head thoughtfully as she eyed LaCroix's ghoul for a moment. Valeska tried to appear as innocent as possible, but truthfully she was just as much in the dark as Katrina was as to why the Prince would keep such an expensive collection around to seemingly only gather dust. Eventually the secretary simply shrugged. "Ah, but that is his business. Get dressed as quickly as you can, and meet LaCroix in his office."

Before Valeska could respond or even nod, Katrina had left her presence. In a way, it almost seemed like she was irritated or even flat out jealous with the attention her Ventrue boss had decidedly bestowed upon his ghoul, but could Valeska really blame her? She, herself was relatively new to the Camarilla, yet despite being chewed out and black mailed every so often (something the Toreador probably was probably ignorant of), she was being allowed to get away with throwing sass at her boss while still being heavily rewarded for jobs well done. She very much so doubted that every one of the Prince's employees were given these same benefits, so it was no wonder then why this might cause feelings of envy.

As the ghoul changed into a dark knee length skirt and a silky, low cut collared top that was purple in color, she wondered if the Prince and his secretary had ever had some kind of sexual relationship in the past. Judging from what she had seen so far from both parties, it seemed highly unlikely, yet it was obvious that at least one of them desired more from the other person. Valeska herself also wanted more than what her boss was probably capable of giving at this point, so she completely understood how Katrina might have felt. At least the Toreador had more tact than the ghoul, but she unfortunately had the weakness of wearing her heart on her sleeve unlike many of the vampires the ghoul had encountered so far (excluding Velvet). That was probably because she was a Toreador, but it made Valeska wonder if the Prince hadn't yet noticed these subtle feelings of affection his secretary had for him. Perhaps he was just oblivious to the female psyche, or more likely he was completely aware of this and was using those emotions to his advantage in order to inspire loyalty.

A thought suddenly occurred to the ghoul that this was exactly what he was probably doing to her, but as she slid on a pair of low heels, she pushed it from her mind. She had more important things to worry about than being manipulated, especially since he could probably snap his fingers and she would follow out his commands like a well-trained animal. This was mostly because he held her grandmother's life in his hands, but with this ability there was no reason for him to feign compassion. Therefore these thoughts were pointlessly distracting right now, as only a few rooms away waiting was a man she knew was not entirely patient.

One quick trip to the bathroom later to pin up her unmanageable hair back into a bun, and the ghoul had left her room in order to find her way to LaCroix's office. Surprisingly enough, her memory served her well in finding it, so after knocking upon his door and hearing that she could enter, she did just that. Stepping inside and closing the door behind her, Valeska looked around to see that the large room looked exactly the way it always did. The fire place was crackling, the grandfather clock was ticking, and the loyal Sheriff stood behind his master as he waited for any order he might be given. The only difference she could really note was that LaCroix's usually tidy desk was littered with stacks and stacks of paper. Prince LA himself was leaning back in his leather armchair as his eyes scanned a single sheet of paper. Eventually he looked over this document to spot his patiently waiting ghoul and she was pleased when she noticed his eyes quickly wandered over her body for a split second. This was probably a surprised reaction to her new attire, but it made her happy nonetheless.

"Ah good, you are awake. How are you feeling?" he requested as he sat up, placed the document back on his desk, and folded his hands upon it. On his face was an indifferent expression, but the subtle concern in his voice delighted her further as it signaled that he wasn't going to simply throw away the gentle moment they had shared before.

"I'm doing quite well, thanks for asking," Valeska acknowledged with a small smile.

"Excellent, you do look quite nice," the Prince complimented before the revelation of what he had said hit him, "Which is to say that your appearance suggests that you are doing much better." His unintentional compliment alone had been enough to widen the ghoul's smile, but his awkward attempt to quickly fix his statement had caused a bit of laughter to bubble up from within her. Fortunately she had been able to stop herself by forcing out a cough and covering her wide grin in the process, but only an idiot would have missed the fact that she was barely containing herself.

"I appreciate the sentiment, sir, and if I can get away with saying it, you're looking handsome yourself this evening," Valeska returned as LaCroix blinked a few times. It wasn't like she was lying, as even when he had been covered in blood with a mangled mess of hair atop his head he had been gorgeous; mildly disconcerting, but still gorgeous. Now that he was all cleaned up, his sharp navy blue suit with silver cufflinks and perfectly combed out hair just amplified the affect he usually had on her. However, her compliment seemed to fall on deaf ears, because all that was exchanged between the two was silence. "Uh, anyway…Katrina said that you required my presence?" She wanted to ask him why he hadn't been the one to wake her up, but such selfish demands were hardly worth bringing up. Once again, she had to remind herself that he was a man with a full schedule, and the current scene with him buried behind a desk of papers was clear evidence of this.

"Yes, actually. I am still finalizing the details for your next task, but I wished to provide you with something," the Ventrue vampire announced as he pushed away from his desk and closed the distance between the two. It may have sounded silly, but just the act of watching him walk toward her was making her stomach do summersaults. When he finally reached her though, he stuck his hand into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a cell phone that she recalled was nearly as identical as his. The device definitely did not look cheap, but she was left with little choice to argue against taking it because he quickly thrust into her hand.

"Uh…thank you, sir, but why are you giving me this?" she enquired slowly.

"After not being able to reach you when I required it, I found it necessary to take precautions in preventing a repeat offense," Prince LA answered before drilling his eyes into hers, "Speaking of which, is there anything you wish to tell me in regards to why you _actually _failed to answer your phone last night?" Valeska froze, because almost right away she could tell this was a test. The cunning son of a bitch had somehow already learned about her romantic run in with the notorious Anarch leader, and now she had either the option of lying like crazy or coming clean. The former would only have her digging a deeper hole, but the latter might result in some terrifying consequences. Perhaps then if she were careful, she might employ a combination of the two, as even though she knew her paranoia was playing a part in her frantic thoughts, it was best she get this off her chest now before it was too late. Taking a deep breath, she let her shoulders sag in defeat; an action she hoped might make her look like she regretted her actions all while looking slightly pitiful.

"I do, sir, and it was stupid of me to think that I could get away with lying," the ghoul admitted as she noticed her boss's eyebrows shoot up in mild surprise. More than likely he had expected her to lie through her teeth, but she knew that starting out with honesty might work in her favor until she carefully made her way into being deceitful. "The reason I hadn't answered my phone really _was_ because I was drinking away my problems in a bar; I didn't lie about that. However, I did leave out a detail that I didn't think was important at the time."

"I shall decide what is important in this matter, Miss Latimer, continue," LaCroix ordered as his current body language gave no hints as to how he felt about her current choice in words. So far it didn't seem like he was angry, but by now she knew him well enough to know he was simply waiting for the right chance to pounce. At least her heart was already beating wildly enough that when she finally turned to deception, her high pulse rate might be mistaken for simple anxiety from being put on the spot. This was another thing she could use to her advantage, and all she could think about was how grateful she was that her boss had previously informed her of how he usually sorted out liars.

"Well I…kind of met someone there," Valeska divulged, as she let her eyes fall to the ground to display her guilt, "I'm ashamed to admit this, but I allowed my partially inebriated state to cloud my judgment by letting him take me back to my apartment. Luckily your phone call is what prevented things from escalating, and though I've been meaning to thank you for stopping me from making the biggest mistake of my life, I found the issue too personal to discuss." The ghoul kept her eyes on the ground, as she thought of the raunchiest thing she could in order to force herself to blush. Glancing back up at the Prince who held his chin thoughtfully in his hand, she smiled weakly at him. "I'm uh…really shy when it comes to these kinds of things."

"So it would seem…" her boss agreed as his light blue eyes that were free of anger watched her carefully. "Out of curiosity, do you remember anything in particular that stood out about this individual? Say for instance his name, behavior, or choice of words." Valeska tried her best to appear as if she were thinking very hard about his question, which turned out to be quite simple seeing as how she _was _thinking hard. Granted her thoughts focused more on choosing her words carefully, but the main theme remained. Right now she was split between telling the truth to make things seem more realistic, or to lie by making Nines out to be a complete fool so that she might satisfy her boss's overall image of the man. Again it seemed a combination of the two would probably work best, since after all, the best kind of lie was one that told the truth, but with a few details twisted to benefit the deceiver.

"Honestly? Even when I was two drinks under he still seemed like a dumb rebel hick from a distance, but when he got close he actually proved to be one hell of a smooth talker. I don't think he ever told me his name though," the ghoul recalled as she watched the Prince's face become stuck between either being pleased with her words or irritated with them. Eventually the satisfied expression won over, but that was probably because the first half of her sentence had been something he would have wanted to hear about his enemy.

This little tip on effectively employing dishonesty had come from reading a book a while back that focused on tricking the human mind with illusions and brain teasers. One section in particular had been of great interest to her, as it entailed a great deal of psychological research that stated that most people were more emotionally affected by the first half of another person's sentence, rather than the second half that usually faded away into the background of their consciousness. While the book had primarily been for the interest of entertaining the reader, the ghoul was always looking for ways to incorporate knowledge she learned into her everyday life. Judging by how well her little trick had seemingly worked on the Prince though, she decided then that it was a very good thing that she regularly did this.

"Hm, and are you certain that he did not disclose his identity to you or share any other kind of information you might have deemed unusual?" he asked, his question more genuine than it was mistrustful.

"I'm sorry, sir, but no. I barely remember anything about him as is," Valeska lied before pausing to remember the public outburst Nines had made. Surely something like that was bound to jog someone's memory if they had almost slept with that same person, but since she had little experience with being drunk herself, she wasn't sure if forgetting someone's face in only a few hours was common. "Sir, forgive me for asking, but why are you asking me all these questions? I know my actions were irresponsible and might have negatively affected your reputation, but you almost seem like you want to kill the guy." The Prince laughed softly, before his expression became serious.

"Oh believe me, Miss Latimer, if I could accomplish such a feat without initiating a war of some kind, I would," the Prince responded in a dark tone that matched his words, "The truth of the matter is, the man you almost shared a bed with last night was none other than Nines Rodriguez, the famed Anarch leader who objected to my trial last night." Valeska let out a little gasp in the hopes that her face full of shock looked authentic, though she doubted she did. When it came to trickery she could effortlessly drop lies for the most part, but controlling her facial expressions had never come easily to her, not to even mention her poor attempt at body language.

"Oh my god…I had no clue, I swear!" the ghoul promised, which wasn't that far from the truth when she thought about it. Originally discovering who she had almost slept with from her boss in their ride to the trial had been bad enough, so now all she had to do was to accurately replicate the emotions she had been trying to disguise back then. Placing her hands on both sides of her skull, she exhaled deeply. "I think I'm going to be sick…"

"Calm down, Miss Latimer, there is no need for such theatrics," the Ventrue vampire commanded as he waved his hand nonchalantly, "Your current position in vampire society makes you mostly blameless in this situation, for the fault lies with me for not assuring that Mercurio taught you properly. I shall speak with him later on his failures as a teacher, but in the meantime, the situation might actually prove useful. I may not be happy to hear you accidently almost had sexual relations with my enemy, but I cannot deny that your actions may have helped me." Was it just her, or was he trying hard not to lose his temper? He definitely seemed like he wanted to yell at her or insult her even, yet here he was refraining from such actions.

"That's great to hear, but please don't punish Mercurio for my short comings. I'm sure he told me all about Nines, and I probably just zoned out for a minute or two," she rushed anxiously, not wanting her closest friend in the Camarilla to be punished for her stupid mistake of walking straight into an Anarch bar. The Prince said nothing as he returned to his desk, his lack of presence causing an odd emptiness to bubble up from within her.

"Your loyalty to your instructor is admirable, but unless you have any further information to change your recollection of your encounter with Mr. Rodriguez…then there is nothing more to be said," Prince LA informed his ghoul as she remained silent. She knew his words were a trap to lure her into admitting something to incriminate her, but even if she had flat out told him every single truthful detail, it still wouldn't have saved Mercurio. She honestly had not realized she had been in Anarch territory, nor had she been aware that she had almost gotten down and dirty with their leader until her boss had mentioned his name much later in the same evening. She could lie and say that she had purposefully ignored Mercurio to spite him in some kind of attempt to save his hide, but she doubted he would go for it.

"I understand, sir," Valeska surrendered quietly, "But he's been so kind and incredibly helpful in introducing this new world to me. I'm sure this is my fault somehow, so please…just go easy on him."

"I shall consider it," LaCroix offered as the ghoul exhaled with relief. She cared deeply for her ghoul mentor, as he had been like a father to her in more ways than one.

"Thank you," she acknowledged gratefully with a polite bow of her head.

"Of course, now there is just one query I have left for you, and it is imperative that you answer truthfully," her boss began as Valeska shifted awkwardly, "At any point, did Mr. Rodriguez drink your blood?"

"Sir, I didn't even realize he was a vampire until you told me so a minute ago. I mean, his skin was warm and everything," the ghoul lied again, being well aware that she had known Nines was a vampire before they even went back to their apartment. It was a little weird that her blood was the Prince's primary concern, but she supposed he didn't like sharing his food with others. That thought alone had her split between being flattered that she might be seen as precious to her boss, and uncomfortable that she was only good for being his dinner.

"Very well, return to your apartment and await my email," he ordered, his voice possessing a slight edge of relief to it, "I have a task for you that will require a great deal amount of deception, tact, and stealth, skills that I'm sure you'll have no problem utilizing." He narrowed his eyes for a moment that had Valeska sweating as to whether or not he had seen through her, but his expression returned to normal mere seconds later. "However as I previously mentioned the details are still being finalized, so stay near your laptop and keep your cellphone on you at all times."

"As you wish, sir," she accepted, trying to hide her feelings of frustration the best she could. Again she found herself being confused with his general character, as one minute he was awkwardly tripping over an accidently given compliment, the next he was interrogating her while searching for inconsistencies, before finally finishing his discussion with her by getting right back down to business and giving her a new set of commands. Okay, so their hugging moment hadn't been that big of a deal, but to her it was a major breakthrough point that she had figured might lead to something that could be considered special. Then again, their interaction so far had its usual furious screaming matches and vicious insults replaced with fairness and a few compliments. That alone was a huge improvement, and though she knew she couldn't rush someone like the Prince with learning to be compassionate, it didn't stop her impatient inner desires from wanting what they wanted.

"Oh and before you leave, might I suggest that you stick to the color purple for any future attire you choose to wear?" the Prince requested, something that was quite surprising in itself as he wasn't making a demand for once. "The color of royalty suits you well." His expression was dead serious, but the ghoul couldn't help but wonder if this had been a subtle attempt at flirting with her. After all, LaCroix himself held a title that was usually associated with that of royalty, so was his recommendation a teasing remark that she would be suited well with him? Perhaps purple was just his favorite color and he wanted to see her wearing more often, or better yet, he wanted to be surrounded by those who looked as much the part of royalty that he did. She honestly had no clue, and she knew that she was probably just reading way too far into his words like she always did. More than likely he was simply making his suggestion because he was concerned with the overall image of his company, as having elegant employees wearing colors that flattered them would be an effective way to make himself look appealing to the public, regardless of whether they were human, vampire, or whatever else was out there.

"If it pleases you, then I will make an effort to purchase purple clothing in the future, sir," she promised as watched his lips curl upwards in a small smile.

"Good. That will be all, Valeska," LaCroix dismissed. He had used her first name again, something she had noticed that he rarely did unless he was trying to be gentle, when he was concerned for her, or was immensely pleased with her actions.

"Good night…Sebastian," she returned, using his own first name in attempt to test the waters. Unexpectedly his small smile remained, but his eyes soon left hers as they returned their attention to his cluttered desk. Feeling quite satisfied with the situation at hand, Valeska left his office with a bit more bounce in her step. The butterflies were fluttering around like mad within her, and although she would have never admitted it anyone, she was as giddy as a young school girl. So what if she had been reading into his words a bit too much before? She had just used his first name, gotten away with it, and had even been granted a smile in return. In her eyes, that was damn good progress.

As she slowly made her way down Venture Tower, she realized just how well the evening had gone. She had made up with Katrina, effectively deceived the Prince (at least she hoped she did), escaped a situation that would have normally ended in a screaming match, took another step in developing some kind of friendly relationship with LaCroix, and despite her feelings of not wanting to accept expensive gifts, she had been given a brand spanking new cell phone. It had been one of the better nights she had experienced in nearly three weeks, and if it hadn't been for the possibility that Mercurio might be severely punished, then it would have been the very best one. That was something she was actually quite worried about, but there wasn't much she could to change the situation. The best she could do was to call her mentor to warn him when she got, since she didn't have his number programmed into her new cellphone.

Leaving Venture Tower completely, Valeska took a moment to gather her thoughts as to what she wanted to do next. The dream she had experienced earlier had been moved to the back of her mind, though now that she was free to do as she wanted, she had an intense desire to speak to the Tremere Regent. This wasn't just because her father had ordered to do so either, but because the note Maximillian had placed in her apartment had caused her normally high curiosity levels to soar beyond what was probably healthy for any one person. Her boss may have given her instructions to return to her apartment, and while she was just as interested to find out what her next task would be, learning about her father was decidedly more important. Besides, the Prince had her number if he really needed her now that he had given her a cellphone. Now if only she could remember the address Strauss had given her…

Closing her eyes she reached back to when she had read the note, but all she could remember was the general street in which his Chantry was located, not any specific address. The street in question wasn't too far from her boss's actual haven, and though she did not want to engage in the awkward task of asking around for someone who looked like a Matrix oriented magic wielder, she decided that it wouldn't hurt to search for the Tremere haven. Setting off in the direction that would lead her to her destination, Valeska encountered nothing out of the ordinary except being hassled by one of the bums looking for his next meal ticket. The ghoul naturally hadn't had any change on her, so after sending the persistent man away, she wound up past the condemned hospital and Hallowbrook Hotel, to be on the cross roads of several different buildings. One of which she could automatically rule out, for its doors and windows were boarded up, while its walls were painted with an odd red symbol in the shape of a star with a skull in the center of it. The ghoul knew that the Tremere were supposed to be by nature, quite secretive, so spray painting assumed gang symbols just didn't seem like them.

There were a few other structures in the area too, but since one of them was dedicated to being an apartment complex and the other was a business closed for the evening, that fortunately narrowed down her options to what she could have discovered without either of the above hints, the assumed Chantry. The structure, which was several stories high, had a sort of Victorian gothic flair to it, as the arched stone windows and twisted architecture was shaped to be both attractive as well as undeniably creepy. Nearly every single one of the lower windows had curtains or old shutters covering their respective rooms, yet glancing upwards revealed that the higher floors had an odd purple light shining through them. If she hadn't known any better, she might have assumed that someone was having a wicked rave party up there, but she did know better. More than likely the light came from someone casting spells or something else that sounded equally awesome, but a magic show was not why she was here. Her father and the missing information from her past was why she was here, so taking a deep breath she approached the front door and knocked firmly upon it.

As she waited, she couldn't help but feel a sense of uneasiness, like something horrible had once occurred at the Chantry's location. Experiencing such emotions was nothing strange to her, as often when she visited very old structures that had a lot of negative history, she would usually suffer the sensation that she might suffocate if she remained. The building in front of her looked somewhat old, but what she was experiencing now was probably emanating from the clan's dark history. Mercurio had only been able to tell her so much about the Tremere due to how well they hid their secrets, but the one thing that he had been clear on, was that they were highly mistrusted by the other clans because of both their past and their supposed twisted experiments. Being a guinea pig for some ancient mage was not something she personally would have liked to become a part of, so all she could hope for was that being caught in a trap would not be added to her evening agenda.

Slowly the door opened to reveal a young woman with coffee colored skin, long dark hair, and a long sleeved, black dress that reached her ankles. All that she needed was a pointy hat with a black cat in her arms, and the assumed Tremere vampire standing in front of the ghoul would have been the iconic image of an old fashioned Halloween witch. Additionally she had a creepy vibe to her, though maybe that was the way her honey colored eyes peered knowingly into the ghouls.

"Can I help you?" the Tremere asked, her voice smooth like silk.

"Does a Maximillian Strauss live here?" Valeska returned, trying to appear as confident as possible.

"Perhaps, why do you need him?" the witch like lady countered, her stare never wavering. It was almost like she was trying to read the ghoul's mind, something that had her anxiously trying to regulate her thoughts just in case this was true.

"Well he requested that I see him as soon as possible through a letter he delivered," the ghoul responded.

"And do you have this letter with you?" the female vampire questioned, her body language settling into the defensive as her eyes filled with skepticism.

"Uhm…no, I left it in my apartment…" Valeska answered, starting to feel a little uneasy. "Look, if you don't believe me then can you just go tell the Regent that I'm here? My name is Valeska and I -" The woman held up her hand to signal for the ghoul to be silent as her eyes fell to the ground. It looked like she was distracted by something, but she was only quiet for a moment.

"Are you sure?" the Tremere woman asked aloud to no one before slowly nodding her head. "If that is what you think is best, then I shall do so." Complete silence. "As you wish, Regent." Returning her attention to the confused Valeska who could find no sign of a communication device, the vampire spoke up. "Regent Strauss is in his study. If you'd like I can take you there now." She still didn't look like she trusted the ghoul, but somehow she had just been talking with her superior who ordered his underling to let her in.

"Yes please," the ghoul accepted before the Tremere associate opened the door fully. Valeska took a few steps inside, but she had little to no time to view the foyer as she was quickly escorted to what could only be described as a maze of hallways. Her trip that had her worrying that she might get lost on the way out was short, but she had been able to notice that her surroundings consisted of wooden ceilings, several old fashioned wall lamps, intricate maroon carpets, dozens of closed doors, and walls that had wooden baseboards for its lower half while the upper half had wallpaper that matched the floors. "How do you guys not lose yourselves down here? It's like a maze!"

"We manage," was all the witch like lady revealed as the two stopped in front of an impressive double set of doors with stained glass. On both sides of the room were matching sofas that were dark green in color and appeared as though they were from the same time period that LaCroix's furniture came from. "The Regent is inside, do not keep him waiting."

With that she turned and left, leaving the ghoul standing all alone while her nerves slowly began to eat away at her. Not wanting to let her anxiety affect her any more than it was, she decided to get it over with by quickly opening both of the doors. What lay before her was a decent sized study that had room enough for two greyish blue sofas, an armchair that matched the couches, a huge fireplace surrounded by marble, a handful of end tables a large piece of artwork mounted right above the fireplace, a couple of fully stocked, towering bookshelves, and a wooden coffee table. Meanwhile, the walls were covered in dark blue wallpaper with white symbols imprinted on them, the floors were made of wood but were mostly covered with a rug, and the ceiling, well looking at that just hurt her eyes trying to figure out just what the hell she was staring out. Besides the two lamps behind her, the only light in the room came from the fire which ultimately gave the area an almost mystical feeling to it. Standing with his back faced to the ghoul, Maximillian was dressed in a less formal set of red 'wizard' robes as he stared into the fire place.

"I uh, got your message, Regent," Valeska announced as he turned around to view her. There was no surprise in his face, nor was there any question as to why she was there, for both of them were obviously on the same page.

"Ah, good evening, Valeska. It is a pleasure to see you again, but please, let us dispense with the formalities. You may call me Maximillian," the Regent urged in his deep sophisticated voice. "After all, this is not your master's realm." Taking a seat on one of his nearby sofas, he gestured for her to sit on the one in front of him, a scene that mirrored the one in her dream so closely that it gave her chills.

"Alright, Maximillian it is then," she agreed to as she seated herself on the comfortable couch and crossed her legs. For what seemed like half a minute or so, the Tremere Primogen rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he studied the ghoul before him. It was something that made Valeska feel increasingly uncomfortable, and she couldn't help but wonder what the hell was up with this clan's fascination of staring people down. "Not to be rude, but I'm assuming you didn't ask me to come here if all you were going to do was stare." Strauss raised an eyebrow.

"Remarkable. You know, when I examined your father he reacted in much the same manner that you have now," Strauss divulged with an almost nostalgic expression as the fire danced in his small spectacles.

"Yeah, you told me before that you somehow knew him. Will you answer my questions now that you couldn't before?" the ghoul requested as she leaned forward a bit, mostly in anticipation.

"Of course, but I must remind you that we sit behind closed walls that hide many secrets, young one. Anything that is discussed here, must remain here, and not just for the safety of my clan either, but for the safety of your own person," Maximillian warned in a stern tone.

"Are you threatening me?" a paranoid Valeska questioned, feeling more anxious than she already did. Coming here in the first place she knew would be like this, for the blood mage's levels of creepiness almost matched her idol, Gary Golden.

"I am not," the Tremere Primogen guaranteed, his face free of any of the typical signs of deception, "I merely meant to say that sharing any information outside this Chantry could result in others reacting poorly to your nature. Remain silent, and I promise to not only answer your questions, but I shall do my best to keep you under my protection. Does this seem a fair proposal?"

"It does," Valeska agreed quickly with a nod, "Now please, I need to learn everything about my father that you know." At this point in time she would have agreed to do almost anything outside of harming or degrading herself to acquire this knowledge, so staying quiet was a no brainer to her.

"Very well, where shall I begin then?" he inquired. Valeska remained silent for a moment, as she turned to stare into the marble fireplace that had dragons engraved on the sides of it. There were dozens, maybe even hundreds of questions she had for the warlock in front of her, but now that they were actually in reach had no idea where to start. Eventually she settled on something that had been killing her for a while now.

"Alright, how do you know my father?" the ghoul asked. She knew she probably looked silly sitting on the edge of her seat like she was, but that was mostly because she knew that one way or another, she would have all the answers she wanted by the time the night was out.

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**Author's Note:** Yes, yes, I know, this was a horrible spot to leave off on a cliff hanger, but I needed to make room for the next chapter! *dodges flying bottles and other random objects* Okay I doubt anyone is actually going to get violent with me over that, but this time I promise for sure that Valeska's nature as well as her father's involvement & history for the story will be revealed. If you have anything you'd to share, whether it be pleasing words or death threats for my delayed exposure of secrets (that was a joke, no death threats please xD), then please feel free to drop a review! Thanks again to all my supporters, and I'll see you next time!


	38. Surrendered Secrets

**Author's Note:** Okay so I know this chapter was delayed, but I failed to mention in my last author's note that I've taken up a job as a tutor for students who take summer classes. These classes are absolutely insane in that they pack 5 months into a single month, which has made my working hours soar through the roof. Not necessarily a bad thing seeing as how more hours means more money, but sadly my writing is going to stay on the back burner for a while. This is not only because of my job, but because college starts back for me in a month. I'll try to stay ahead, but I don't think anyone will blame me if I focus on my work & school rather than my recreational activities. Anyway, not a lot to say about this chapter other than it is longest yet and it might have a few errors due to how I rushed to get it out. It foreshadows future conflict, it reveals Valeska's true nature, and also explains a lot about her father's past, so enjoy!

**Special Thanks: **Thank you to for faving & following my story, and also to my reviewers who are Ambrii, RavynKlaine, Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, and aberdeenkev! I love you guys. =)

**Responses: **To Ambrii: Yeah I'm hoping to throw in more moments like that more often from here on out between those two. Also, the Elizabeth Dane is only mentioned right now because at the start of the game the main character can hear about it on the TV. It's only being mentioned at this point in time, but since the first section of the game (Santa Monica) spans over a few days, that's why I felt the need to announce it now. I'm not going to rush anything as Remy is going to be a lazy character who takes his time with the plot lol.

To RavynKlaine: Haha purple is my favorite color too. xP I'm glad you're liking my flirty moments between the Prince and his ghoul, and there will be more to come soon! Katrina is going to play a bigger part coming up here soon as well, though it might be a bit dark.

To Sasha: So pleased to hear that you enjoyed my chapter, and your joke, while over the top, was quite humorous to read. Thanks for the review as always!

To aberdeenkev: Dealing with LaCroix's mood swings will be difficult for Valeska, but I'm going to write her as a supportive companion, if not a little harsh in trying to knock him back down to reality.

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**Chapter 37 Surrendered Secrets**

"You wish to know of how I met your father then? Very well," the Regent began as he steepled his hands together, his palms facing one another while only his fingertips touched. "Viktor Latimer and I happened upon one another in such a coincidental manner, that one might even go as far as to actually call it fate. You see, your father was a thief, and one who was not entirely ignorant to the world of Kindred."

"How is that possible?" Valeska enquired with a surprised expression, "I know there are always slip ups here and there, but I thought the Masquerade was supposed to keep mortals oblivious to vampires."

"Indeed it is, and when I caught your father in possession of one of our more powerful tomes, I demanded that exact same thing. He was content to remain silent, but his noticeably strong mind, defiant nature, and how he had somehow managed to get past my clan's magical barriers had me curious enough to not destroy him on the spot," the Tremere Primogen explained as the ghoul listened on with great interest.

"Heh, my dad kind of sounds like a badass, a bit stupid for trying to steal from the Tremere, but a badass nevertheless," she pointed out, feeling a bit proud of her father for his suicidal bravery, "Yet you mentioned he already knew about vampires. How? Did he outright tell you or what?"

"He did actually, for the first words he uttered when he turned to see me patiently watching him were: 'Keep your distance blood mage. I know all about your thaumaturgy discipline and can counter your spells if it comes to that'," Maximillian accurately recalled. "Naturally I was quite fascinated with your father, and though I could have extracted the desired information from his mind one way or another, I presented him with an alternative to his annihilation." He paused to glance at the ghoul, perhaps to study her facial expression or maybe to reassure himself that she was paying attention.

"Well don't stop there, what was this proposal you offered him?" the ghoul urged as she sat forward, feeling more and more engrossed in the story.

"That if he came out victorious in a duel against my person then he would be free to go, granted without my tome of course," Strauss responded with a slight wave of his hand that reminded the ghoul of her boss. "If however he failed, then he would be forced to answer my queries. Deception on any part would be compensated with physical injury."

"Sounds fair enough, but were you willing to really risk something like that? I know I should be defending him seeing as how he is, er…was my dad, but if he were to win your duel and walk free then that would have been a serious breach of Masquerade protocol," Valeska reminded him, before mentally face palming with just how much of a Camarilla goody two shoe she actually sounded like. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing seeing as how she worked for a Prince and all, but in a way her words mirrored a statement that her boss might say, not her. It worried her that these were the first steps to losing her identity too, and it made her wonder if it was yet another unofficial side effect of vampire blood. She doubted LaCroix would be honest about it if she confronted him with these concerns, but maybe now that she had signed his contract he might be more willing to part with that information.

"I applaud you for your dedication to the Masquerade, young one, but I was confident enough in my abilities to know that I would come out triumphant in our battle," he reassured, "At least I thought I was until I discovered your father actually had a surprising amount of spells at his disposal, most of which focused on draining me of my energy and preventing me from casting any sort of counter attack due to the lack of vitae in my veins."

"Wait hold up, so my dad was both a thief _and _a magic wielder?" the ghoul speculated with wide eyes as the Tremere vampire simply nodded, "Holy crap…that's like the equivalent of an arcane trickster! Do you even know what it takes to get that kind of a specialization?" The Regent stared at her blankly as if he had no clue what she was talking about. "You know…Dungeons and Dragons? Pen and paper role playing game that nerds and forty year old virgins everywhere lovingly adore?"

"I have never been made aware of such a thing," the clan leader replied with unblinking eyes.

"Oh…well that's a shame, but I guess it makes sense. There's no need to pretend to shoot lightning from your fingertips when you can do it in real life like you can…" she rationalized sheepishly before changing topics. "So uhm…if my father wasn't an arcane trickster, then what was he?"

"Viktor was a mage and one whose Avatar was only recently awakened," the Regent answered in a way that made it seem like this was supposed to be common knowledge. When Valeska did nothing but frown in confusion, he continued. "An Avatar is the alter ego of a mage that provides them with a sort of energy source so that they might practice magic. Technically every mortal has such a being sleeping dormant within themselves, but only once it has been awakened through some special event can they command the living energy surrounding us all."

"Okay, so there are vampires, mages, and ghosts. If you tell me that there are werewolves and shape shifters out there my brain might just blow a gasket…" Valeska promised as she leaned back against the sofa. Just finding out about vampires had almost been enough to overwhelm the ghoul in the first place, but now it almost seemed like each night there was some new creature being added to her list of supernatural beings. Some might have considered it an exciting opportunity and she would have been flat out lying if she said it wasn't fascinating to learn about all these new creatures. However, once she put aside the scientific speculations of the situation, the only thing she was left with was the practicality of learning how to defend against these new species should the need ever arise.

"Then perhaps now would not be the most opportune moment to tell you that your list has barely scratched the surface of what else we share this world with," the Tremere Primogen began as Valeska glanced up in bewilderment.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me…" she murmured before increasing the volume of her voice slightly, "I can barely keep track of who's who in this damn city, not to even mention all the vampire clans and political sects! How am I supposed to remember all of _this_?" Her words came across as unintentionally hostile, but fortunately for her, the Regent appeared sympathetic.

"Each and every one of us at some point within our induction into the world of darkness experiences the same sensation of being overwhelmed, so have no fear, young one, these feelings are normal," Maximillian consoled, "After all, it is not a simple thing to have the veil of mortal existence lifted from one's eyes in order to reveal the hidden realm of complexity and mystery that lies underneath."

"Yeah I guess so…" Valeska agreed quietly as she gently massaged the left side of her temple, "I don't want to think about it right now though. Just tell me what happened between my father and you in the duel."

"That is understandable, and to heed your request, our battle went as I had ultimately predicted it would. Viktor was an undoubtedly strong individual, but in the end he could not compete against a centuries old vampire who had nearly mastered my clan's famed discipline. I won our duel, and as such he submitted honorably to my questions," Strauss revealed.

"That's an unusual trait for a thief…" the ghoul pointed out, taken back a bit with what she was hearing, "Most of my own run ins with thieves or pickpockets on the streets usually end with them lying their asses off or trying to stab me in the back." In a way she was talking about herself, since she was not above employing those exact tactics to undermine another when the occasion called for it. This was something she would of course want to keep hidden from the Regent, even though she doubted it mattered since she was probably being painted with the same brush as her father. Well, at least being compared to a magic wielding thief of badassery was pretty cool, as there were plenty of other things she could think of that wouldn't have been nearly as flattering.

"Ah, but your father was a highly unusual man as he remained truthful for the entirety of my interrogation," the clan leader established, "And after pressing the issue of how he attained knowledge of my kind, I discovered that he was the offspring of a woman who actually had ties to the Ravnos clan at some point in her life."

"Ravnos clan? The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I don't think Mercuri- uh, my mentor, has told me about them yet," Valeska commented, knowing that he probably had no idea who Mercurio was. "Who or what are they?"

"A foolish Kindred clan of misfits, tricksters and thieves who prey on others with petty illusions to obtain what they desire," he educated, his voice full of disgust. "The Ravnos are nothing more than leeches, moving from one place to the next with no sense of home or loyalty as their supposed code of honor is as hypocritical as the occasional bonds they rarely form with others." Valeska may not been acquaintances long with her current conversational partner, but each of her encounters made her think that Strauss was an unbiased individual who was fair in his views of the others around him. His facial expressions usually remained absent of any noticeable form of emotion as well, yet now it almost seemed like just saying the word Ravnos put a bad taste in his mouth.

"I see, so not really the kind of person you want to bring home for dinner," the ghoul joked before tilting her head thoughtfully, "You know this might sound like I'm stereotyping this group, but nomadic nature and thievery tendencies? Love for trickery and illusions? These guys sound a lot like gypsies…"

"Your intuition serves you well, Valeska, for most prospective fledglings embraced by the Ravnos _are _gypsies," the Regent clarified, "Viktor's mother, who supposedly had gypsy blood in her, was one such potential candidate. Yet something went wrong that resulted in the death of her husband, which soon lead to her fleeing her homeland of Russia with a newborn Viktor."

"So I have both Russian and gypsy blood in me…? Cool!" the ghoul exclaimed, feeling happy by this self-discovery. The possibility of learning more about her family's history also should have excited her, but it sounded both depressing and vague; two frustrations that she had experienced more than enough lately to last her a life time. "I guess that means it's time for me to go buy a tarot deck and a crystal ball for scrying then." Strauss frowned, as her joke had either gone completely over his head, or had unintentionally insulted him. "Uhm, sorry... I tend to make light of conversations a lot as a sort of coping mechanism, so if I offended you it wasn't on purpose."

"Your ignorance does not offend me," the Tremere Primogen stated in a manner that made it so she was unsure whether he was forgiving or insulting her. "Now where was I…? Ah, yes, Viktor's mother came to this country and fit in easily with the rest of the foreign immigrants. However, your father spoke of the two never spending more than a few months in one specific area, something he did not feel the need to elaborate on."

"Well their constant moving can probably be explained by being literally driven out of an area. Lots of people don't like gypsies much since it's often assumed that they'll take anything that isn't nailed down or talk you out of giving them whatever is," the ghoul offered with a shrug. "It's also possible that if they were thieves or if they cheated a lot of people, then they would have migrated a lot to avoid prosecution."

"Perhaps, but either way she was an unstable woman who drove her son away when he began to show signs of paranormal sensitivity. Obsessed with anything spiritual, she pushed unsuccessfully for Viktor to awaken his Avatar earlier than what was intended. Her selfish reasoning for such actions remains unknown, but I assume it is because she lacked the talent herself that she worked so harshly with her son," Maximillian speculated thoughtfully. "As soon as Viktor was old enough to escape though, he did, deciding that the sacrifice of living alone on the streets as a thief was far more preferable to residing in his mother's company."

"Wow, that's pretty impressive for anyone to undertake, and at least now I know how he obtained his survival skills. I still kind of wish he could have told me about some of this stuff before he left, but I guess a kid wouldn't have understood it anyway…" Valeska admitted sadly as she put her elbows on her knees and rested her head in the palms of her hands. "Still, none of this explains why I never saw my dad using magic to start our fires or better yet, catch us dinner. I can recall more than once when those things would have really come in handy, and it's not like there was anyone around for miles to see us. Was he just being extra careful, or did you two meet after he had given me away?"

"Ah, well that also requires a bit of explanation, but I shall get to that momentarily. For now let us assume that his lack of spell casting came from practicing caution," Strauss replied as Valeska nodded in understanding, "Now then, when I caught your father I also requested why he had chosen to steal my tome, as there were several other easily accessible items that would have granted him a larger monetary gain. Initially I had believed that he had been working for a Sabbat vampire who had put him up to the task in the hopes of uncovering my clan's secrets, but how surprised I was then to learn that he had actually hoped to somehow teach himself Thaumaturgy."

"Did you really believe him?" she asked, knowing that she would have been more than a little skeptical if she had been in his shoes at the time. She hated that she was unintentionally bashing her father like she was, but while she would always respect the man, anyone with a brain would have been able to tell that he was probably lying to save his own skin.

"Seeing as how I had him holding a polished skull that would determine whether or not he was lying through its color, yes," he replied with a short nod. "He had heard bed time tales from his mother of my clan's rumored capabilities, and wished to master them himself. Obviously, I should have killed him."

"But I'm sitting here now so obviously you did not," the ghoul concluded as she straightened back out, "I thank you for that, but why'd you do it?"

"I…cannot say," the clan leader responded as his eyes fell almost in shame to the ground, "Loyalty to my clan should have naturally come first, but there was something about your father that warranted the belief that he would make an excellent addition to the Tremere someday. Exposing the secrets Viktor desired would have been viewed as treason by my superiors though, so instead I offered him the position of being my ghoul. At first he was not interested in such lowly heights, but when I promised him that his allegiance would eventually be rewarded with knowledge of my clan, he accepted without question."

"Soooo like father like daughter then…" she acknowledged slowly as this bit of information began to sink in. "You know the similarity that we were both ghouls at one point is eerie enough to make me wonder what other accidental things we might share. Like I know that a lot of my current skills were taught to me by my dad, but while I am a little spiritual or sensitive to some things, I don't think I've ever awakened my uh…Avatar or whatever it's called." For some reason Strauss didn't look at all surprised with what she had said, but the ghoul got the feeling that nothing ever startled the man. Still, it almost seemed like he had anticipated her words in advance, something that made her feel a bit uneasy as she began to fidget slightly and attempt to think of something else to say to the silent blood mage still studying her. "But uh, I guess that those things are irrelevant right now, so please continue."

"Of course. Viktor served me faithfully for several years while I fed his ravenous appetite with knowledge of the arcane mysteries. Nevertheless, he over time began to notice that he struggled with even the simplest of spells, as his Avatar was suffering greatly from the vitae that tainted his blood," the Regent divulged, "He began to worry of whether or not he would even be capable of magic within another month's time, and it was then that I decided to tell him that if he truly desired to learn Thaumaturgy for all that it had to offer, that he would have to become my apprentice as a full-fledged vampire."

"I see…so what does it even mean for a mage to become Kindred?" the ghoul inquired as she frowned slightly, not enjoying the fact that she was completely clueless yet again, "They get to keep their powers and all right?"

"Unfortunately they do not, for once a mage is embraced their Avatar ceases to be forever. Such an event is always devastating for a mage as it has been described as losing a part of yourself in the worst possible way. Imagine then if you will, having your hands lopped off at the wrists or your vision stolen away in a single night, and you will understand how it feels to lose an Avatar," the Tremere Primogen answered, looking very troubled as he spoke. "Any spells they once knew of are rendered incapable of being cast, and any psychic abilities they might have possessed are also either lost entirely or muted."

"That doesn't make any sense though. The Tremere can cast magical spells, and I've heard that some of the other clans have magical talents too," Valeska pointed out, still wearing her confused frown.

"That is an entirely different topic that I have no wish to discuss right now. Simply know that the price for immortality was not cheap for my clan, and that our vitae has been manipulated over the length of our existence to serve our arcane needs," Maximillian explained, "Thaumaturgy is one such discipline that was developed by my clan for that exact purpose."

"Well alright…" she submitted in a disappointed tone. She wasn't exactly happy that her question hadn't been answered to its full extent, but it was still better than nothing. "So when you offered my dad the choice of becoming your apprentice, I can't think that he was too excited. Sure learning blood magic would probably be pretty cool, but if losing an Avatar really is as painful as you described then I can't picture any mage in their right mind willingly undergoing the process to join the ranks of the undead. That is, unless of course you lied to him about the risks." After saying her last sentence, she was certain that it hadn't been worded as well as it could have been, but it didn't really matter. Her current facial expression was enough all on its own to challenge the Regent in letting him know that he had better be cautious in answering her.

"On the contrary, Valeska, your father was quite excited for the opportunity," Strauss countered, "It is forbidden to harbor secrets from one another within my clan, so even when I was honest with him about his Avatar ceasing to exist, he did not care so long as the possibility of casting spells remained."

"But you literally just got done telling me not even two minutes ago that it was a horrible and painful experience for mages to go through. Did he just not understand or what?" Valeska demanded in disbelief.

"Viktor knew the risks, but he wholeheartedly believed that following the Kindred path would be far more rewarding than that of being a mortal. After all, it was immortality that he ultimately wanted all along, and he knew that as a mage the most he could ever hope to achieve someday after discovering the right ritual, would be to swap bodies or slow down the aging process," he shared. "The secrets of Thaumaturgy were also what he yearned for more than anything else in the world, and he understood that only with vitae of his own would he ever learn the discipline."

"I don't know…that still seems like a heavy price for any one person to pay. To sacrifice a part of who you are for immortality? That's just doesn't sound like it would be worth it to me," the ghoul muttered quietly, trying to deny the attraction that living forever actually had on her. Mortality was something she had pondered about often, and such thoughts often put her in a state of depression. It was not easy to come to terms with the fact that she and everyone she knew would eventually die someday, and it was even worse when not even twenty four hours ago she had experienced firsthand just how fragile mortal existence really was. Learning that there were so many stories about the fountain of youth wasn't so surprising then, as being young forever and avoiding a painful death all together was certainly appealing.

"Your father thought differently, and who was I to deny him? He had served me well, had the mindset of a true warlock, and put the needs of the Tremere before his own. Viktor was quite literally in every sense of the statement, the perfect person to be embraced as a Tremere apprentice," the clan leader described as the nostalgic expression she had seen earlier returned to his face. He fell silent for a moment as he stared off into his fireplace, and it made the ghoul wonder just what kind of bond the two had once shared. In a way it seemed like her father had almost been a dear friend, a cherished son, or even a beloved brother to the Regent, yet she could not be sure of which one it was.

"Clearly he was important to you…do you think that bond is what blinded you to his ambition?" Valeska asked as the Primogen's eyes tore away from the fire and met hers. His expression as always was unreadable, but it seemed like he was studying her more intensely than ever before with what must have been curiosity, or perhaps even surprise that she had enquired about such a possibility.

"Not at all, and I was well aware of what he would be capable of should he surpass me. Yet the Tremere clan has, how shall I say it…certain rituals that Neonates go through to prevent betrayal," the Regent shared as he wrapped his spider like fingers around his chin in a display often correlated with that of assumed intelligence.

"None of which you can talk about, I get it," she guessed with minor irritation in order to save him the time of rejecting another one of her Tremere clan related questions. "Now I understand why my dad might not have been throwing fireballs left and right since he didn't have his Avatar, but there's still something I don't get. When did I come into the picture? I'm assuming it had to be waaaay before you turned him into a vampire, because logically everyone knows that your kind can't have children. However if that is the case then there is no good reason for why he wouldn't have been using magic."

"Your deduction skills are impressive, young one, but please allow me to clarify the situation. When the time came to embrace your father, something that has no explanation occurred. His Avatar naturally perished when his vital organs did, but rather than emerge as a Kindred immediately after the embrace, he awoke several hours later as a thin blood," the Tremere Primogen declared.

"Thin blood…so he was like a vampire, but only weaker, right?" the ghoul enquired as she tried to recall what her mentor had taught her. Honestly it hadn't been very much at all, since for the most part all of the shared information had been based on rumors from the beach bums Mercurio knew down at the Santa Monica pier. Perhaps then, when she next had time off she would go visit with their small group in order to expand her mind on the topic.

"Indeed. Thin bloods are essentially like any other Kindred, but with a few glaring differences. They cannot form blood bonds with others, most embraces are typically unsuccessful, they can only master the basics of vampiric disciplines, and some of them can occasionally digest mortal food, awake during the day more easily, or even tolerate sunlight to some degree," Maximillian educated. "Their kind is too weak to be considered an actual threat, but despite this they are still usually not tolerated well by some of the more paranoid Kindred due to the superstition surrounding them. It is unfortunate, but not uncommon then for them to be pushed out of a city or even exterminated." Valeska cringed slightly as his usage of the word 'exterminated' gave her the unappealing image of her father being hunted and put down like an animal.

"This is all really interesting, but I need to know if that's what happened to my dad…" Valeska insisted, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "Was he driven away? Exactly what happened after he was turned into a thin blood?" The possibility that her father had been kicked out of LA and other cities as well explained why the two of them did a lot of moving around, but there was still something missing. Vampires obviously couldn't have children, so the only possibility besides adoption (something she doubted) was that Valeska had been born before he had gone on to become Maximillian's apprentice. Considering this was immensely painful though, because it meant that the only reason her father would have had to abandon his daughter was a selfish one that centered on gaining power. Yet if he had been so obsessed with focusing his magical talents, why hadn't he used them more often around her in order to gain additional experience? Was it to keep her safe or to keep her in the dark?

"I protected your father to the best of my abilities, but with the combination of him losing his Avatar and the learned fact that he would never be able to master any discipline beyond its most basic level, he was devastated," he addressed, a bit of professionally masked sorrow mixed with guilt present in his voice, "For quite some time after that, he simply carried out his previous tasks while reassuring me that he was fine and would find a way to counter his curse. I knew it was impossible, and part of me believes he did too, for one night he seemingly vanished into thin air. For months I searched for Viktor, but his previous experience of covering his tracks made it so I was faced with coming to the conclusion that he had taken his own life."

"But he didn't die, did he?" Valeska asked quietly.

"No," was all the clan leader said as he stood up from his seat and ventured towards his fireplace. He remained silent for a moment longer, and maybe that was because he was waiting for Valeska to speak again, but it was more obvious to her that he simply didn't want to continue the conversation. He looked disturbed or perhaps worried, and for a guy whose stoic expressions could rival the Sheriff's, that was more than a little unnerving for her.

"You look like you're holding back from saying something important, Maximillian" she disclosed. The Regent looked over his shoulder to examine the patiently waiting ghoul, yet instead of addressing her observation, he outright ignored her by returning his attention back to the fireplace. Crossing her arms in mild irritation, she spoke up again. "Look, you've already told me more about my history than anyone else has ever offered, so what's the problem? I mean don't get me wrong here, I really appreciate that you're telling me about my dad and all, but something just isn't adding up. There's a missing puzzle piece that is making this situation way too vague, and before I leave tonight I would like to have solved it." The Regent exhaled deeply as he turned back around, his hands resting comfortably at his sides.

"There is no fallacy present in your current train of thought, as there is indeed a missing piece. You see, when I explained to you some of the differences that thin bloods had from normal Kindred, I purposefully left out the key detail that some of them…have been rumored to have reproduced," the Regent implied, his eyes drilling into hers as the realization of his words started to settle in.

"I'm going to assume you're telling me this because it relates to my father, and you're not just trying to scare the shit out of me," she speculated, hoping that all of this really was some kind of big joke. At any point the Prince would pop out from behind the curtains with his Sheriff, they would all yell surprise, eat some tasty cake that everyone knew was a lie, and then her boss would scold her for not returning to her apartment. Obviously she knew that this possibility was the most unlikely to ever occur, but it didn't stop her from wishing that she had simply torn up the Regent's invite and carried out LaCroix's orders when she had the chance. It was too late now though, and she had the feeling that she was about to hear something that she really wouldn't like.

"This is no joke, young one, and to better relate the connection I am assuming at some point after Viktor's disappearance he met your mother and impregnated her," the Tremere Primogen bluntly presented as Valeska felt a wave of uneasiness pass through her. Once again his usage of a word, which this time around was 'impregnate', just sounded wrong coming from the Regent and it had her imagining her dad as some kind of alien laying eggs in a woman's chest cavity. That thought alone was more disturbing than not, but if her father had been a vampire, and he conceived a child with a mortal woman…

"What…what does that make me then?" Valeska asked softly, her voice barely registering above a whisper. She began to wring her hands anxiously, a useless attempt to combat her upset stomach that had knotted up due to nerves. "I'm still human…right?" Strauss stood staring down at her, his face having returned to its empty blank slate while the flames dancing behind him give him the impression of a demon of sorts.

"I apologize, Valeska, but you are not. You were born a dhampir, and have been one every day thereafter," Maximillian announced as Valeska stood up. She wasn't sure why she did it or even what she would do next, but it simply felt like the right thing to do.

"I don't believe you," was the first thing that fell out of the ghoul's mouth. She only had a general idea as to what a dhampir was, but she was assuming by the title and what Maximillian had told her that it was a hybrid of some kind. Whatever it actually was though, to her it was total bullshit. She was a human, not some chick with a freaky thin blooded vampire mage dad. Maybe that had happened to someone else, but not her as up until she started working for the Prince, she had lead a normal life as a normal college student with normal friends. This was a scam or a bad joke being made at her expense, not something that could be tied into her idea of reality.

"And why not?" Strauss returned simply. His question was not a challenge, but rather instead it was a genuine query.

"Because it's impossible! Kindred can't breed because their bodily processes have ceased to function, it's as simple as that," the ghoul argued, hoping her statement sounded more rational rather than emotional. "

"Perhaps, but then answer me this: Did your mother die during child birth?" he enquired simply, his hands now clasped behind his back.

"Well yes, but that was just an accident. It happens every day all over the world," Valeska disputed before quickly adding, "And it sure as hell isn't my fault either." She knew she was being intentionally hostile now, but in a way she felt like he was blaming her for the unfortunate incident. After all, bringing up the death of her mother never failed to have her defensive side following closely behind, as though she knew it wasn't her fault, she could not deny the guilt she still suffered from every once in a while. It wasn't like there had been anyone that had directly targeted her as being her mom's murderer either, but the ghoul would always think of the woman as her first victim on her ever increasing list of assassinations.

"And I suppose you've never once felt in your entire life that there was something different about you?" the clan leader continued, his eerily calm voice never rising above a single octave.

"Once again that's hardly unusual. Everyone gets that feeling at some point in their life because it's a part of growing up and finding out who you are," she retorted, "Just because I get the feeling often doesn't mean anything."

"Alright, so then what other reason would your father have for placing you in the care of your grandmother?" the Regent asked as he continued to bombard her with what seemed like a million questions. If she hadn't been so frustrated with the situation, she might have asked how he knew about her grandmother too. However, the combination of her anger and the need to rationalize his question had her assuming that he could probably obtain any information he wanted at any time just like her boss.

"To keep me safe of course! We did a lot of moving around when I was a kid, and I assumed he wanted better for his daughter than to live the life of a dirty homeless thief!" Valeska snapped, the volume of her voice steadily rising due to her irritation.

"Naturally, but you cannot deny that your father was on the run," the Tremere Primogen stated as he calmly returned to his seat and crossed his legs.

"Well didn't you say before that thin bloods are discriminated against by other vampires? Once again, giving me to my grandma was to keep me safe from living a life of constantly being on the run," the ghoul repeated.

"Of course, but it is your nature that forced his hand, as the learned possibility of a dhampir existing would have thrown the community into an even worse state of disarray than any one thin blood could ever do on their own," Maximillian clarified, "Viktor placed you in the care of your grandmother to keep you safe yes, but that was because if anyone had discovered what you were, then they might have wished to kill you. Some might have even worshiped you as a sign from god that we were finally being forgiven for our sins, but either way, he felt that being raised as a mortal would have been better for both your mental health and physical safety."

"Your sins…right…listen if you don't have any kind of solid evidence then I don't think I can take you seriously," she said, refusing to sit down when he gestured her towards the sofa again.

"Why do fight so hard to believe something you know is true? You've always known what you are, Valeska, and the more you struggle, the more you're going to realize that the only person you're trying to fool is yourself," Strauss informed the ghoul, his knowing eyes shining brightly in the light of the fire. His words hit closer to home than she hoped she let on, but she knew he was right to some degree. Whenever she reacted so strongly in denial like she was now, that usually meant she was running away from the truth, even if she didn't quite know it yet. It was like she intuitively knew the answer to everything, but coming to grips now with the fact that she wasn't human, that she had never been human, was not a simple thing to do.

Growing up she had never fit in with the other kids, but she had always assumed it was just because she had the unfortunate luck of being the painted bull's-eye that others her age just loved to target. There were logical reasons of course for just about every abnormality that popped up in her life, but when she really thought about it, all of those reasons were just excuses she had developed to deny the facts that had been right in front of her all along. Her ability to outrun the schoolyard bullies? Not a big deal, she liked running and had simply gotten better at it with hours of practice. Her strength that was slightly superior than what was considered normal for her age? Well it wasn't _that_ spectacular, and besides, it came from helping her grandmother transport the heavy mop bucket around the house when they cleaned it. Why her wounds, even very severe ones, seemed to heal so quickly? Naturally because she ate her vegetables, another reason she was no doubt a bit faster and stronger than the guys her age. However, all of these reasons were exactly why she avoided playing sports in the first place, as the last thing she wanted was to stick out in school even more than she already had at the time.

Granted there were other odd things about her too such as the fact that she sometimes was able to hear or smell things others couldn't. She also avoided the sun due to the way her pale skin always burned so easily, and maybe it was because of the previous reason, but she also seemed to prefer the night a lot more so long as it didn't interfere with her schooling. It all made sense, and yet none of it did, because becoming a ghoul should have done more than change her social life. Yet the only thing she had really experienced with herself that could be considered physically different was a mild increase in her senses and an even quicker ability to heal, as well as the developing feelings she had for the Prince. Drinking vampire blood for any normal person would have augmented their physical strength and speed, but this was barely the case for Valeska until she frenzied. No matter how hard she tried though, she couldn't keep denying her nature for very much longer. She was a dhampir, but only now after several years of burying these intuitive beliefs of her strangeness was she actually able to begin walking down the path towards accepting it.

"Let's say I believe you, and I really am a dhampir…what does that mean for me?" she asked softly, "Just what am I exactly?"

"You are a being that belongs to both the mortal world and the Kindred community, yet at the same time, neither one of them. You can tolerate the things we cannot with only mild difficulty if any, and are also granted a few of our strengths. Some of which you have probably already discovered on your own," he explained with a knowing expression as though he was reading her mind. Damn blood mages…

"Yeah I guess…even before I was made into a ghoul I was a little stronger and faster than other people," Valeska shrugged, avoiding his eyes, "The sun doesn't seem to like me much either, and as such I've always felt more comfortable during the night." She looked up from the ground with hopeful eyes. "Are you…sure that I'm a dhampir? I mean there's always the possibility that this is a mistake or that my dad…" Her voice trailed off as the Regent gave her a small, yet comforting smile.

"I am positive, but if you would like I might perform a slight…test," the clan leader offered as the ghoul raised a single eyebrow.

"A test huh? What kind of test?" she inquired with a slight frown of suspicion.

"My clan in the past has often erected magical barriers or wards throughout our Chantries to protect our secrets. Depending on which ones are put in place then, these barriers have our enemies experiencing the painful sensation of their flesh being peeled away, while others will outright have themselves burst into flames," the Regent shared as he rose for a second time from his sofa. "If I acquire just a single drop of blood from you, we can test if vitae runs through your veins with a modified, smaller version of this ritual."

"But I'm a ghoul, so wouldn't that pick up on the Prince's vitae?" Valeska pointed out.

"Normally yes, but these barriers can be quite specific in which species they target. As such, I possess ones that can be filtered for kine, ghouls, Kindred, and even lycanthropes," the Tremere Primogen specified as the ghoul frowned in confusion.

"Lycanthropes?" she asked in puzzlement.

"Werewolves," Maximillian clarified.

"Oh…" the ghoul murmured. Not ever having been a fan of werewolves herself, she had hoped that of all things, they at least weren't real. Unfortunate that they were, but so long as she never had to encounter one than she would be fine. "Well will it hurt?"

"Not at all," Strauss reassured as he took a step towards her. "All I need is a single drop. May I?"

"You may," Valeska allowed. Almost as if he predicted she would give him permission, he pulled a petri dish seemingly out of nowhere, took up her left hand, and pricked her index finger with a small needle she hadn't realized he had been in possession of. A sharp sensation came from her index finger as she permitted Strauss to squeeze what was more than one drop of blood from her. She didn't mind this though, and once he released her, she licked the remaining droplets of blood from her finger and followed him to the center of the room where the coffee table was.

Watching as he placed the dish on the table, the Regent sat on the sofa, closed his eyes, and began to mummer a few words that seemed incomprehensible to her. More than likely he was conjuring up the supposed ward, and after a few minutes this turned out to be the case because a burst of what looked like a small circle of purple flames erupted on the table next to the dish of blood. Reopening his eyes, the Tremere vampire stared down at the circle and waited until the brilliant light had faded entirely. Peeling off one of his gloves, he put it on the table and looked back at the ghoul who had reseated herself on the sofa.

"I believe we can both agree that the blood that runs through my veins is undoubtedly Kindred in nature," he presumed as the ghoul nodded in agreement. "Very well, then observe what happens to my hand when it passes through a generalized ward targeted towards a Kindred belonging to any clan." With his hand hovering flat in front of himself, he leisurely brought it through the invisible barrier, and inhaled sharply when his skin began to melt away. As if this pain was barely bothering him, he used the same sluggish pace to retract his hand while his face showed no sign of discomfort. However, it was clear that there had been a substantial amount of pain involved with the ritual, as the end result had left his hand displaying pockets of blisters that burst and oozed out with his blood. It was _not_ a pretty scene, and Valeska actually found her stomach feeling queasy.

"Not to be rude or anything, but oh my god is that disgusting!" she found herself exclaiming as she instinctively pressed her back into the couch to get away from his bloody hand. "Your hand looks like a burnt and bloody piece of meat patty or something…how the hell did you not scream in pain?"

"The process was uncomfortable, but not life threatening," the clan leader waved off. If it had been anyone else the ghoul would have been suspicious, but she knew that he wasn't intentionally trying to boast about his high pain threshold. "Now observe what happens to your blood when I move it into the ward." Without another word, the Regent pushed the petri dish into the invisible circle. Valeska then watched with wide, awestricken eyes as her blood began to boil away as though it had been placed over a hot stove. A few large bubbles began to form and as they popped rather loudly, a speck of warm blood shot out from the dish and splattered right under the ghoul's right eye. Wiping furiously at her cheek in case it had become acid or something else equally harmful, she watched as Strauss removed the dish from the ward and uttered a few more words that sounded similar to the ones he had previously spoken; the ghoul assumed then that he must have been lowering the barrier.

"Well that was…bracing…" Valeska confessed with relief as she let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding in, "I felt like I was watching a scene out of _The Thing_ there for a second, and that my blood was going to jump out and kill us or something." Strauss chuckled softly as he cleaned up the table, something that made the ghoul happy with the fact that someone had finally understood one of her random references. "I guess there's no way around denying the fact that I'm a dhampir now though… Is there anything that I need to know about being one?"

"Dhampirs are still relatively new to this world, seeing as how thin blooded vampires of an even higher generation have only come into existence within the past few decades," the Regent explained, "However, there are still a few things I know that might interest you. The first is that as a dhampir, you will physically age more slowly compared to the average person."

"Well I've always had a baby face, so least I know why," the ghoul shrugged, "What else?"

"As a dhampir, you also have a Beast of your own that you possess within yourself," the Tremere Primogen stated as he watched her carefully, "Furthermore, your first encounter with this darker half will halt the aging process entirely and place at you at the same risk other Kindred have with frenzying." Valeska averted her eyes, not wanting to give away the fact that she had already frenzied, but knowing that her unconscious fidgeting had probably already done that for her. "You have already frenzied before, haven't you, Valeska?"

"I uhm….yeah," she confessed, looking into his eyes with her own shame filled ones, "It happened for the first time quite recently actually, but I figured that was because I was a ghoul. Does that mean I'm going to live forever now? Or do I have to start drinking human blood like all Kindred do?"

"I cannot say without further evidence, as like I stated before, there is very little information on your kind," Maximillian responded, "There is much we could learn if we were to say, experiment with your blood in a series of tests, but I would never do such a thing without your permission." Valeska remained silent for a moment as she contemplated his offer. There were so many questions she had for the Regent, but all of them would probably be returned with the same answer: there was no information to be had.

Giving him her blood to experiment on didn't settle too well with her though, but perhaps that was because everyone had told her that the Tremere were not to be trusted. If she put aside these biases though, did they seem like people she could place her faith in? Well no, but she rarely trusted anyone anyway. If this man was to be believed however, then he had at one point been a good friend to her father, someone she still felt had somehow gone through all the trouble of warning her through a dream about the Prince, but not the Regent. Her dad had also been the one who had influenced her thoughts to see Strauss in the first place, but perhaps there was something going on behind the scenes that she was missing. The Tremere were supposed to be capable of immensely powerful spells and rituals, so what if they also had the ability to enter a sleeping person's mind? Posing as her father and directing her to see the Regent would have been an easy way to win her trust, and the timing of her dream had been a little too perfect in her eyes to be considered as only pure coincidence.

Something just wasn't right here, and she was beginning to think that the only reason he wanted her blood was so that he might control her through some weird ass voodoo ritual. That of course raised the question of why he would go through such extreme measures to influence someone who was so seemingly unimportant in the Kindred community, but then again, she was LaCroix's ghoul. That gave her direct access to LA's Prince almost any day of the week she wanted, and what better way was there to take down an authority figure than to corrupt one of his pawns that was completely unaware of the schemes that went on in the shadows? Strauss served the Camarilla as LA's Tremere Primogen, but who was to say that he wasn't vying for the Prince's throne? She honestly had no clue, and there was no way for her to be sure of the Regent's reputation without asking for a second opinion from a neutral party. But who did she know in LA that was both knowledgeable and who wouldn't rat her out the first chance they got? This question took her a little under five seconds for her to answer, because almost immediately she knew who she could go to: Mercurio.

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**Author's Note: **Alright, now before some of the more really loyal fans to WoD go crazy, I may have bent the rules a little when it comes to the Tremere. Yes their rituals such as the wards usually take a lot longer than a few minutes, but it was a smaller version so neh. =P Also, there truly isn't that much information out there on WoD dhampirs, so I might have added in a few more weaknesses or traits to Valeska that might not be true for all dhampirs. For example, in the WoD universe they are meant to be just like any other human at first glance, and even their blood has few if any differences when compared to a mortal. For story purposes though, I've decided to make things a bit more difficult for Val that will be announced later on, but if anyone would like more information on dhampirs then please PM me! I can provide you with tons of sites in which I found most of my information, but the rest comes from my WoD books that you would have to buy on your own naturally. There will be more secrets to be uncovered in the next chapter and even more later on in the future, but for now I hope this answered a lot of questions that some of you may have had. If not, let me know through a review and I'll do my best to answer them for you! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter, but if not, please let me know how I can improve. I'm also kind of a n00b when it comes to mages in the WoD, so if I made a mistake anywhere let me know about that too so that I can fix my errors. Thanks everyone. =)


	39. Something's Gotta Give

**Author's Note: **Yeah, I got to spit out another chapter within decent time! This is what happens when I lose hours of sleep, but for me it is totally worth it. This chapter in particular has a different sort of writing to it, one that has more details and darker scenes, especially with Valeska as she deals with her Beast. Mercurio and a quick cameo from another character show up, so please enjoy!

**Special Thanks: **Thank you very much to Forsharry for following both me & my story, and to my reviewers who are Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, RavynKlaine, and Ambrii. Finally, I also want to give a very special thanks to fire4fun for following me, and sending me such a lovely PM full of compliments on my work. *hugs everyone*

**Responses: **To Naruto Loves FemKyuubi: If you have questions on the version of dhampirs I've decided to use, send me a PM and I'll send you some websites as to where I got my info. That way I can save room in the responses section. As for mages, I think that all of them are supposed to have an Avatar within them, not just some of them. When it comes to Strauss, I want to keep the reader in the dark as to what his intentions are, so all I will be providing with that is Valeska's own thoughts in the matter.

To RavynKlaine: Yeah, Val is becoming a bit of a Cammy, but can you blame her? She works for the Prince lol. I'm glad you liked my D&D references, as though I have not played much of it myself, it is indeed quite fun. My Portal reference is another one I have been itching to use since day one, so glad you liked that one too. At least the mystery about Val has been cleared up, so you can finally rest easy! Strauss's intentions will remain a mystery however, and I can't say much as to what his plans are just yet.

To Ambrii: Valeska's father does have a very sad past, more of which that will be revealed later I think. It was him that decided to take the risk of losing his Avatar, but I think only the strongest minded mages in that situation wouldn't have completely lost it if they came out a thin blood. Strauss is one of those characters that I, myself am not even sure of whether or not I would trust him. On one hand he's always polite and helpful, but his intentions as a Tremere make it so that trusting him would probably be disastrous. Not revealing any other hints though, but I will add that I don't blame you for not wanting the story to end. The only thing I'm worried about is the story being 100+ in chapters, so perhaps I might just make a sequel instead lol.

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**Chapter 38 Something's Gotta Give**

Valeska had thought long and hard on what her next set of words would be from that point on, because the last thing she wanted Strauss to know was that she was on to him. Of course it was possible that her paranoia was just getting to her again, and this thought had her thinking that if dhampirs could be embraced, then she would have had no problem with fitting in with the Malkavian clan. Yet such contemplations were practically worthless right now, as her primary concern was coming up with a way to leave the Chantry without rousing the Regent's suspicions. She still wanted to keep him on the sidelines as a friendly resource of information, but until she figured out what his true intentions were, it was better for her to exercise caution.

"Your offer is both generous and appreciated, but I don't think it's something I can commit to just yet," Valeska politely declined. "I'm a bit behind with my work you see, and if I don't get caught up with it then the Prince is bound to get suspicious." Was this a lie? Kind of, but she was supposed to be back in her apartment right now anyway.

"Ah yes, well when so ever Prince LaCroix is involved I will always understand your trepidation with any situation, young one," Strauss said, a minor bit of discord present in his voice. His statement for the ghoul was hard to decipher, as she wasn't sure whether he was insulting her boss or being sympathetic to her plight. As one of the city's Primogen he surely had to know what personality traits were most dominant in LA's Prince, so perhaps it really was the latter.

"Yeah…don't tell him I said this or anything, but the man's impatience should be known as legendary," the ghoul joked, "That is of course unless his ego hadn't taken the trophy for first place in the hall of rudeness." Her own words were a bit harsh, but sometimes the only thing you had to do to make someone feel comfortable was to throw the first insult. Depending on how the Regent next responded then would say a lot of whether or not she could trust him in regards to any loyalty he had for her boss.

"He certainly lacks discretion when it is needed," he agreed, the ghost of a smile on his lips before it swiftly vanished, "But he is a very young vampire who is still learning the ways of this world, Valeska, and I find it surprising you would attack him so openly when he is your master." The ghoul shifted in her seat uncomfortably, her plan of attack having completely backfired.

"Well uh, since I became a ghoul I've fallen out of contact with a lot of the people I once called my friends. Mostly for their safety and all, but that leaves me without anyone to talk to about my troubles," she clarified, happy that she was so quick on her feet with her response, "I mean it's not like I can hop on Facebook and post a rant about how my boss isn't an easy man to work for."

"Understandable. Impatience and the Ventrue unfortunately _do_ tend to go hand in hand," the clan leader addressed.

"Yeah, so if I was out of line I'm sorry," the ghoul apologized, "But uh, speaking of that I think I better get back home to finish my work. Do you have a phone number or something else I can reach you by once I make my decision?" Maximillian nodded as he reached into his long overcoat and pulled out a small index card that might have been mistaken for a plain old business card. Handing it over to her, Valeska saw that typed out neatly in the same Victorian font was the Regent's name, phone number, and email address. "Is there one method you prefer using over the other?"

"Not particularly, no. I am here to assist you in anything you strive to achieve in, Valeska, so either of those are acceptable means of communication," the Regent informed the ghoul, "Though I think you will understand if you are restricted to leaving a recorded message should you choose to call me during daylight hours."

"Of course, but if I may ask…why are you so eager to help me?" Valeska inquired as she stuck the card into her shirt's pen pocket. Unfortunately, since her blouse was so low cut the positioning of her pocket unfortunately had her left breast looking square on the surface due to the card, so she quickly removed it after realizing this.

"Is there any reason I should not?" the Tremere Primogen countered.

"Well no…but in this new life of mine only one person has freely given me help with no thought of reward, and that's probably because he wasn't a vampire," she responded, feeling a bit intimidated for some reason, "Not that I think all vampires are jerks or anything, but I just want to know if you have some kind of ulterior motive for helping me out." Valeska had hoped she would have been able to restrain herself from outright demanding this information, but after her previous contemplations of paranoia she couldn't help it. Besides, even if the Regent was now aware of her suspicions, at least he knew that she would not be so easily fooled. This could have been a problem if he worked to employ a more subtle form of manipulation, but in a way his current response might have been enough to determine his motives all on its own. To her surprise though, Strauss actually began to laugh before answering her. It was neither loud nor obnoxious, but rather it seemed stuck between being bone chillingly creepy and somehow encouraging at the same time.

"I am going to offer you a piece of wisdom, young one, and I do hope you heed my words well: No one in this world ever does anything for free," Maximillian educated, his face fixed in a state of austerity as though he were lecturing a child, "Kindness is often practiced in return for friendship or love, while work is compensated with money, or as you have only recently learned, blood. You are right then to suspect me of attempting to influence you towards some unspecified long term goal, but I assure you that my reasoning for offering my assistance is not in any way malicious."

"How do I know?" Valeska challenged, crossing her arms as she spoke, "What evidence can you offer me that will hold my fears at bay?"

"There is nothing I can give you," Strauss admitted with a slight wave of his hand, "And even if I could grant you such desired information, I would recommend that you continue to hold onto yours suspicions as paranoia is often based from a powerful intuition."

"Wait, so you're actually telling me to mistrust you?" the ghoul demanded in partial disbelief. Surely this had to be some new form of mind game she had yet to encounter, because no one in their right mind would ever tell another that they couldn't be trusted. That is unless he hadn't really wanted anything from her to begin with, which seemed unlikely seeing as how he contacted her in order to grant her free information. There was a catch to it all, but as of that moment she couldn't tell exactly what it was.

"Yes," he answered flatly. Valeska craned her neck forward a bit with the anticipation that he might say more, but nothing else came out of his mouth.

"That's it?" she questioned as he simply nodded. "Why…? What's the point of telling me to keep my guard up if you're trying to gain my trust?"

"For the same reason that I am helping you as I am now, Valeska," the clan leader replied, "Your father was a dear friend of mine, and no matter how inferior he might have believed himself to be, he was still my childe. If I had an ulterior motive then, it would be to keep you alive for as long as possible, for if Viktor were still alive today I am certain that your safety would have been his primary concern."

"Oh," was all the ghoul said as she remained silent for a moment. She may not have trusted him, but his words were almost genuine enough to make her want to. Of course that could have been his plan all along, a sort of oxymoron to throw her for a loop and keep her in the dark until he had achieved exactly what he had desired from her in the first place. As if Maximillian could tell that she were thinking hard on this, he spoke up.

"You are an intelligent young woman, Valeska, and I am sure that in time you shall discover with whom it is you can place your faith in. For now though, I would recommend keeping everyone at a distance until you adapt to your new life," the Regent advised.

"Yeah, okay…" Valeska accepted as she stood up, "I'm going to head out now, but thanks for all your help, Maximillian." She held out her hand for the Regent to shake it, and to acknowledge her friendly offer he rose from the sofa to do so. Even through his glove she could still feel the coolness emanating from his palm, which just served to further her uneasiness. It was interesting she noted as well, because when the Prince made physical contact it always left her yearning for more, not wanting to get away from him. Such was the life of one who suffered from a blood bond she concluded.

"You are very welcome, and please, never hesitate to contact me for any assistance in the future should you require it," the Tremere Primogen reminded her.

"Alright, cya later, Maximillian" the ghoul said, hesitantly throwing in the gesture of waving her hand.

"Farewell, Valeska," he returned with a slight nod. Seeing this as her cue to leave the ghoul did so, but she soon found that finding her way through the maze of hallways was not nearly as difficult as she imagined it would be. In a way she felt like something was literally pulling her towards the exit or perhaps even directing her inner sense of navigation, but that sounded just silly when she thought about it. Then again this was the Tremere clan she was dealing with, so who could know for sure?

Finding herself outside the Tremere chantry, Valeska took out her shiny new cell phone to check the time. The face read 9:13pm, something that signaled to her that Mercurio, who lived by the same nocturnal schedule as her, was surely awake by now. She was then stuck between heading all the way back to her apartment to find his number, or simply popping in for a surprise visit that she was sure he would have no problems with. Granted, going back to her home would have taken only a few minutes as it was only half a mile away, but that meant acknowledging whatever job the Prince had in store for her next. Her loyalties to her boss should have naturally come first, but she really had no desire to get back to work so soon after the events of last night. She really needed a vacation away from all this damn Kindred drama, but it seemed like every time she attempted one her boss would interrupt.

Well not this time, no sir. She was going to try and enjoy herself tonight even if it killed her, so straightening her posture, she began walking to the main street where she might call a cab to take her to Santa Monica. An idea struck her soon after however, and that was that her ghoul mentor, like nearly everyone else in the 21st century, probably had a computer of his own. Knowing Mercurio he would probably let her borrow it long enough to check her email, so this meant that she would not only get to relax for the evening with a good friend, but also give her boss the impression that she had gone home when he had ordered her to. Smiling at this new success of hers, Valeska realized that things almost seemed like they were starting to go her way for once.

Of course the past few nights, weeks even, would have been clear evidence that her life was pretty much as shitty as life could get for any one person, but she still had a lot more than most people in LA which was a roof over her head, food to eat, and a job. So what if she had almost died twice within the last three weeks? She was still breathing. Who cares if she had been tricked and blackmailed into being her boss's personal slave? She was still being paid for the work she did. Did it matter that she was falling in love with the Prince of lies? Not really, because things definitely seemed to be improving between the two. And if she wasn't human, then what of it? It seemed like everyone she had met lately was either a vampire, a ghoul, or god knows what else the night had to offer, so at least now she had a better chance with fitting in. Valeska had never truly been an optimist in her life, but rather a realist who preferred to analyze a situation from an unbiased standpoint so that she might make a better decision with what to do. Nevertheless, it seemed that her new life had forced her into this new mindset, in which the only thing that motivated her to get out of bed each evening was the hope that she somehow wouldn't suffer some newfangled horror.

After hailing a cab and giving her driver the directions to Mercurio's apartment suite, it was then that Valeska let her thoughts of being a dhampir take her over as she sat silently in the back of the vehicle. To be honest she was still in quite of bit of shock, if not partial denial, but once again she knew without a doubt that the Regent hadn't been lying about what she was. All the signs were there, and now it was just up to her to accept them for what they were. A billion questions she had about what she had decided to call 'her kind', but Strauss had cautioned her with speaking to others about it for the concern of her safety. She knew she could trust Mercurio, but if she really wanted answers then who else could she go to? No one, that was who, because first of all, she didn't really know that many people who could help her, and second of all, out of all those people she had no idea how they would react to this newfound knowledge.

Velvet was practically useless, as all she would do with the ghoul was probably try to sleep with her. Grout was obviously insane and might just try to experiment on her, dead or alive, with the thought that her blood might cure his terminally ill wife. Therese was a bitch, there was no way around that little detail, and she probably had no knowledge on dhampirs anyway. Gary would probably know something, but dealing with the Nosferatu was decidedly dangerous as there was nothing to stop him in the future from trading the information of what she was to someone else. The Anarchs were obviously out of the question, for they seemed neither educated in such matters nor trustworthy when it came to someone who was loyal to the Camarilla. The Prince…well the Prince didn't seem like the type to give into superstitions easily, so it was unlikely he would kill her just for being a dhampir. However, if she was or could be a threat to his power, then he would probably dispose of her within the blink of an eye, something that was quite painful for her to admit. The only other people she knew of were Jeanette, whom she had never even met, Imalia, who clearly hated Valeska's guts, Katrina, who was too close to LaCroix to keep quiet, and the Prince's chauffeur, who had the same problem that prevented the ghoul from seeing the Toreador secretary.

No, when it came down to it she was entirely alone in this world, a realization that left her aching for someone who might be capable of understanding her. Yet she knew that even if she could be comforted by gentle words or a simple hug right now, there was one glaring detail that remained: she was like a jagged puzzle piece in that would never truly fit in anywhere. As a dhampir she was neither Kindred nor kine, which meant that no matter how hard she tried, she would never feel one hundred percent comfortable in the presence of either group. It was kind of funny too when she thought about it, as even before she had been made aware that she was a dhampir, there was always something telling her in the back of her head that she just didn't belong. Being surrounded by vampires had been even more uncomfortable for her, as at least with humans she didn't have to worry about ending up being their next meal for the evening.

"We are here," the cab driver announced, pulling Valeska from her thoughts.

"Oh, right," the ghoul said as she moved to reach into her pocket. It was then that she remembered she had no wallet on her, since she hadn't even bothered to grab it when the Prince had stopped by to take her to the trial last night. Feeling a bit panicked, she cleared her throat. "I uhm, seem to have left my wallet at home, sir. Can you take me to the nearest ATM so I might pull out some cash for you? I'll pay you whatever extra that is required."

"A fair offer, but you need not worry about providing currency this time around," the cabbie responded in a tone that was surprisingly soothing in a sort of eerie way. There was a slight accent to his voice too, but the closest thing she could compare it to was Romanian.

"Huh? Are you sure?" she requested, even more shocked that a cab driver in California of all places was being so thoughtful. The lighting was poor, but she could tell that the dark haired man seated in front of her was wearing dark sunglasses for some reason. A little weird, but any driver that waved all fees was bound to be a little unstable.

"In a city like LA, our paths are destined to cross again," he reassured the ghoul as she climbed out of the car. She got the odd feeling that the two had met before, but she had taken quite a few cabs in the past few years so that was hardly surprising.

"Well alright…thanks a lot, sir" Valeska acknowledged, knowing that his statement was not likely to come true. LA was a huge place that had hundreds or maybe even thousands of drivers competing for customers, and with an attitude of forgiving his fares, this considerate cabbie would sadly probably be out of business soon.

The cab driver said nothing else, so after shutting the door and watching him drive off, Valeska simply shrugged. No need to think too much into a random act of kindness she decided, especially when she was distracted by the sudden sheet of rain that was quickly covering everything that lay before her in a thin film of water. Being as it was that the month of October would be coming to a close soon, the cool temperature of the liquid seeping through her clothes was both refreshing and soothing. Right at that exact moment though, something didn't seem quite right to her, like she was being watched or perhaps hunted. Glancing around she neither heard nor saw anyone, but the uneasy feeling in her gut remained. There was something off about how the wind stung at her cheeks too, and it wasn't just the fact that the harshness of it seemed to cut through to her bones, but rather it smelled so very odd, like a mixture of fear had polluted its scent.

Unsure of how to take this new evidence that sounded more like it was coming from her vampire half, Valeska rushed to the entrance of the suite complex in order to rid herself of these ill feelings. Clambering up the stone steps, the ghoul pulled on one of the handles to the double door entrance, only to have her hand suddenly slip free from it completely. She might have attributed this to the rain, but the entrance's archway jutted out far enough that it would have prevented everything except perhaps the very last step from becoming wet. Additionally, upon examining the silver door handle to see it coated in red, and then glancing at her hand to see that it too had a splotch of what could only be blood, the ghoul knew without a doubt that her hand had _not_ slipped from the rain.

Sticking her hand back out into the rain, she allowed the water to wash off the crimson liquid, before she shook it dry. As she did this, she was met with a disturbing fact that she hadn't noticed before, and that was that the ground had a trail of blood on it that was quickly being diluted by the rain and washed away into the gutter. She had no intention of following the path either, but from what she could tell, it had either began or ended somewhere down the street and had either started or finished within the Santa Monica Suites building. Seeing all that blood was enough to make anyone feel troubled, and the fact that it was fresh wasn't a good sign either. Feeling like she might become a target if she remained outside any longer, the ghoul turned back around and pulled on the second entrance door whose handle was clean.

Opening the door and stepping through brought a rush of cool air the ghoul hadn't been expecting, and in return it served only to chill her further. Closing the door behind her, Valeska stared down the hallway to see that it was mostly plain except for a few potted plants in the corners that were obviously plastic. Venturing down the hall that had vaulted ceilings, the ghoul noticed additional splats of blood here and there upon the white & yellow marble tile, but only once she reached the fourth suite, Mercurio's home, did she realize with horror who the blood belonged to for it lead straight to his doorstep. Panic rushing through her veins, Valeska began frantically pounding on the door as worst case scenario situations of her mentor having been slaughtered polluted her anxious mind. There was of course the possibility that Mercurio had been attacked in his home, but had fled before the assailant could finish the job. That meant that the attacker could be waiting within, but her concern for the man who had become something of a second father to her, overrode all thoughts of her own safety.

"Mercurio?" Valeska inquired, her voice accurately representing the fear she felt, "Mercurio are you alright?!"

"Huh…?" came the weak voice of a groggy male, "Val, that you..?"

"Yes, it's me," she quickly clarified, not caring that the high volume of her voice might wake up his neighbors, "Are you alright? Can I come in?"

"Uh yeah, come on in," the person she assumed was Mercurio allowed. Not waiting a second longer, Valeska swung open the door to be met with a scene that looked like it had come from a Wes Craven film. The room, which was decent in its rectangular shaped size, had nearly every turquoise and rose colored tile square covered in blood, including the white travertine that separated each square and most of the decorative rug too. Parts of the marbled black wall had bloody handprints on it, but it appeared as though her mentor had been holding onto it for support in order to flip on the light switch, something else that was dripping with twisted ruby drops. Like any apartment there was tons of furniture lying around, some of which had been knocked over presumably in an attempt to scramble inside, and right in the middle of it all was a heavily wounded Mercurio lying on a light blue sofa stained red.

"Oh shit!" the ghoul anxiously exclaimed as she reclosed the doors and rushed to his side, almost tripping over a bit of the rug in the process. Kneeling besides her mentor and not caring that the soaked carpet was coloring her pale legs red, she used their close proximity to better examine his disheveled appearance. Starting with the lower half of his body, she noted his torn pant leg that gave way to what looked like a twisted ankle, a shin bone that was poking through his skin, and what appeared to be a large mass of bruises that she was certain traveled up the entirety of his body. Moving upwards with her eyes she saw that his abdomen saturated in blood was in no better shape, as she counted at least five separate knife wounds that had surely punctured several of his vital organs, along with what appeared to be a broken bottle sticking straight out of his rib region. On his hands was evidence of painful cigarette burns, around his neck was what looked like purple & red hand marks from being choked, and his bruised face looked like it had taken the worst amount of damage. His nose that spotted a stream of fresh blood was obviously broken, one of his eyes was swollen shut while the other one had blood vessels branching out across its sclera, his hair was matted down with filth, and the weak smile he gave her revealed several chipped teeth.

"Hey Val," he greeted weakly before coughing up a bit of blood, "Didn't expect to see ya here tonight…"

"I was hoping to pop in for a surprise visit…but what the hell happened to you? Who did this?" Valeska demanded angrily as she began to plan a generalized revenge scheme step by step in her head. She might have bothered to ask the cliché question of whether or not he was alright, but seeing as how he was bleeding out all over the place, there was no point.

"Bunch of junkie pricks in a deal that went down wrong, but it's a long story, kiddo," her ghoul mentor answered, "And I'm pumped full of pain narcotics that tend to knock me flat on my ass. The new kid was kind enough to bring em', but I don't think he realized it's only a temporary fix."

"Yeah of course, you can just tell me later," she agreed, noticing a split bottle of Morphine on his end table. Having more than enough experience from hospital visits to know that Morphine was one hell of a drug, she knew she could forgive him for being so drowsy. It made her wonder how the Toreador fledgling, who she assumed was the only new kid he was referring to, had acquired such medication too. However, since her friend seemed to be currently dying, this was immediately moved to the back burner of her mind.

"So how do I look, beautiful?" he clumsily teased, his words slurring ever so slightly. If she didn't know any better, she might have said he was flirting with her, but since he was doped up on a medication that made even the strongest minded of people insanely loopy, she didn't mind. Besides, their relationship was much more of a father daughter one anyway, not anything romantic.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Mercurio, it's bad. You need blood, _vampire_ blood," the ghoul specified as his chipped tooth grin faded. There was a slight moment of silence between the two, making it so that the only noise that could be heard in the room was the soft dripping sound that came from a few wet strands of hair that had fallen loose from her rain soaked bun.

"That bad, huh? Well shit…" Mercurio cursed as he tried to flip over onto his back. This ended in humiliating failure though, as his limbs flopped uselessly as though he were a fish out of water that just happened to have a dislocated shoulder she noticed. "I had hoped most of this would o' fixed itself by the time I woke up…if I woke up…"

"Don't talk like that, you're going to be fine," Valeska reassured as she stood up, her feet making a disturbing squishing sound due to the amount of blood the rug was full of. "I'll just make a quick call to the Prince, and everything will be fine."

"NO!" her ghoul mentor shouted, causing her to jump in surprise with how desperate his suddenly coherent voice was. "You let the main man know that I screwed up and I'm done for."

"Are you sure…?" the ghoul quietly inquired, "He's been forgiving to me in the past with stuff so mayb-"

"That's you!" Mercurio interrupted, a bite of anger in his voice, "He ain't so forgiving with me, kiddo, trust me I know. Whatever you do, do NOT call him."

"Well what else am I supposed to do?" she demanded in exasperation, "You're losing blood like there's no tomorrow, and if we don't contact him then you're as good as gone anyway!" Mercurio's eyes fell to the ground, and it appeared as though he were murmuring to himself.

"Aright listen Val, there's a blood bank up the street," he finally spoke in a hurried tone, "Local ghoul named Vandal runs the place, a real weirdo, but he'll trade blood for cash if you've game for it."

"But I don't have any money on me," Valeska informed him, worrying with just how weird this guy was that her mentor had actually used that of all words to describe him. Any person who ran a blood bank had to be a little screwy though, so perhaps that was why he had labeled him as such.

"Aw shit, me neither. Fuckin' Cali rats took me for all I had!" her ghoul mentor angrily shouted, furiously kicking the foot end of his sofa with his bad leg. "Fuck! Forgot the goddamn leg was broken! Motherfucker!" Mercurio then launched into a violent profanity laced rant about who had presumably done this to him, and it sounded like half of it was being said in English while the other half was in Italian.

"Hey, look at me, Mercurio! Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth," she instructed, as she inhaled and exhaled to better show him exactly what she meant in an attempt to calm him down.

"My nose ain't workin' so great, but I'll try," Mercurio promised as he proceeded to give his best attempt at her commands. He was still obviously pissed off beyond anything she had ever seen from him, but slowly he began to level his breathing to a more steady pace.

"There you go, in through the nose and out through the mouth," the ghoul repeated, smiling slightly when she saw his chest comfortably rising and falling, "That's it, just keep at that. Now I'm going to leave you for a bit to get you some blood from this Vandal guy, but I want you to just take it easy and rest, okay?"

"But I…" he began before his pupil gave him a glaring look that meant he needed to shut up and rest. "Well alright, but be careful. I wasn't kiddin' when I said Vandal was a whacko, because whoever that kid's master is has gotta be a Malk."

"Will do, be back soon," Valeska promised with a curt nod before she left his apartment. Perhaps it was her own clumsiness or the quick pace at which she used to leave, but the ground had her once again almost falling flat on her face; at least this time around she could blame it on the slippery tile though. Practically running out of the building, the ghoul was met with an even heavier version of rain that she hadn't anticipated. Shielding her eyes with a flat palm, she surveyed the street for any sign of a blood bank, only to comprehend that her mentor practically lived right across the street from a hospital.

Hurriedly crossing the street, and not caring that her heels were now full of water, Valeska found her way to the hospital's front entrance and yanked open the door. She was then met face to face with a crowded emergency room, one that smelled like death and had patrons that looked nearly just as close to it. The ghoul herself had never had a problem with hospitals, as she was in fact one of those odd sort of persons that actually enjoyed the medical environment so long as she wasn't there to see a dying friend. However, this hospital was the exception as it was obviously run down with flickering ceiling lights, and elevator that was out of order, and filthy floors that appeared as though they hadn't been cleaned in months. Not caring to take in her surroundings any more than she already had, Valeska moved to venture past the desk only to be stopped in her tracks.

"Hey you! Where do you think you're going?" a somewhat nasally voice questioned. Turning on her heel to see who had addressed her, Valeska spotted a short young woman behind the front desk eyeing her suspiciously. She was dressed in the traditional hospital garb of light blue scrubs, which contrasted with the color of her bright orange hair and freckled face.

"Uh, my friend…" Valeska began, her mind racing at the speed of light as she tired to formulate a lie. "I've got some things to drop off for her." To further emphasize this, she openly pointed down the hallway with both hands repeatedly as though she were in a rush, not that she was being dishonest about that.

"What's your friend's name?" the assumed nurse asked with narrowed eyes, obviously not buying into her lie. Valeska's heart dropped and she knew she should have just stopped while she was ahead. However the only thing that she seemed to be able to focus on was how red the woman's nose was.

"Heather Poe," was the first name that came out of the ghoul's mouth. She wasn't sure why that of all names had suddenly popped out either, but it turned out to be the best damn coincidence of all time for after the nurse checked her charts, she spoke back up with good news.

"Alright, you can go on back," the red headed woman allowed, still watching Valeska carefully. Not wanting to wait around for another second in case the nurse changed her mind, the ghoul took this fluke as a sign from the spirits and hurried down the hallway. Had Mercurio' life not have been in danger, she might have actually gone looking for Heather to figure out what had happened her, but naturally her mentor came first. Whatever had happened to the young fashion student was probably her fault, but if Valeska remembered this turn of events when she got back home, then she would be sure to tell Heather's grandmother of where her granddaughter was.

Glancing around for a moment to get a handle on her surroundings, Valeska might have missed the BLOOD BANK Downstairs sign if she hadn't bothered to look through the exit door, but luckily she didn't. Opening the exit door, the ghoul swiftly made her way down the stairs, past two energy drink machines, and into yet another corridor that was so quiet that her squeaky shoes echoed loudly on the cheap linoleum tile. She noted that the air down here was musty, and it had the unmistakable yet unsurprising scent of blood that lingered along with it as well. Approaching a window with a drop box, the ghoul looked into the small room to see a young man whom she presumed to be Vandal, leaning back in a rolling chair with his hands behind his head and his feet up on his desk.

Also dressed in hospital scrubs, the ghoul had light brown hair that came down to just under his ears, but it looked very similar to a style that a carefree beach bum might choose, not a hospital employee. His nose was a little too big for a face like his, and like his ears that were just as large and poked through his messy hair, it just didn't look like it suited him. Besides sitting, Vandal wasn't really doing much else, but his dark blue eyes seemed glued on the ceiling above him as though he was daydreaming, and these thoughts must have been happy for there was a slight grin upon his thin lips. Hoping to draw his attention Valeska rapped loudly on the window, but when he finally looked her way, she felt quite uncomfortable for some reason. Slowly the ghoul rose from his seat and made his way to the window in a sluggish pace, and though this wasn't anything abnormal, the way in which he maintained eye contact the entire time made her feel like she was being stalked as prey.

"Well, well, well…what do we have here? Not a nurse obviously, though your haggard face that mirrors a fifty year old might suggest otherwise," Vandal began, leaning forward ever so slightly as his eyes traveled over the rest of her body.

"You Vandal?" Valeska asked, shrugging off his blatant insult and trying to appear confident. No shit she looked exhausted, but that was what happened to a person when they almost died, frenzied, and had a friend dying across the street all within the stretch of less than two days. Also, since she was soaking wet from the rain it was no surprise that her appearance probably did not resemble that of a super model.

"Could be, but why should I let you be privy to such information?" he countered, an almost teasing tone to his voice that infuriated her.

"I want to buy some blood," she bluntly responded, hoping to get right to the point.

"Oooh a customer, I haven't had one of those in almost three hours. I was starting to get worried too, but oh no…you're not a vampire. Even if you _are_ pale enough to be one…" the blood bank ghoul teased further with raised eyebrows meant to feign surprise. "So what might your reason for wanting blood be I wonder?"

"I need vampire blood actually," the dhampir specified, "I've got a friend of mine up the street, and if I don't get him some help he's going to die."

"Hmm…a friend dying right up the same street that has a hospital," Vandal speculated, not even dazed by the fact that she was speaking so plainly, "I don't think I buy it, but if you've got the green to pay, then I can provide you your fix of red any day."

"Well that's the thing…I don't exactly have any money on me right now…" Valeska murmured before quickly adding "But I can pay you back!" Vandal burst into laughter.

"Now that's rich. An addict comes down here hoping that I might grant her a little piece of heaven, but she seems to be down on her luck!" he exclaimed almost gleefully, "So she hopes that I might help her out of the decency of my heart. Well let me tell you something, Betty, I don't do freebies."

"I know this looks bad, but I swear to you that I'm not an addict. I really do have a friend, and his life really is in danger. I don't expect you to give me vampire blood for free either, as I can pay you back as soon as I get to an ATM. I'll even give you back double the price of whatever a single bag costs if it comes to that," she promised, unable to disguise the desperate edge to her voice.

"Oh please…I've heard every sob story there is, sister, and it's like I said before: if you don't have the cash, then I can't help you!" the blood bank ghoul repeated with a casual shrug, "It's as simple as that." His indifferent manner of teasing her had been enough to piss Valeska off in the first place, but his cold hearted take on the situation only served to raise her irritation further. It was enough to make her want to break through the glass and snap Vandal's spine in rage, but these thoughts scared her because they were obviously not normal for someone who preferred to act with a clear mind. Right now though, she had a friend dying and his salvation was but an arm's reach away, so surely that was what was pushing her limits.

"Look, I don't have time to deal with your goddamn games right now, Vandal," the dhampir snapped in a low threatening tone as she glared into his eyes, "I came here for blood, and I'm going to get it one way or another." As if to unintentionally emphasize her threat, Valeska found herself licking her lips, though why she did this she had no idea. She hadn't eaten yet that night, but never in her life had she ever viewed another person as dinner before. Was this because she was trying to scare her opponent, or was it due to the fact that she had awakened her Beast only yesterday? The former was obviously more desirable, but her actions had not been done on purpose, making it so that only the latter made sense for what was happening. That would have accounted for her sudden temper too, but it frightened her with what consequences unleashing her inner monster might lead to if she didn't get a handle on it.

"You? What is a weak little ghoul going to do to me behind a thick sheet of glass?" Vandal laughed, tapping on the glass just to prove his point, "You're not a vampire, so your threats are as empty as your skull." Clenching her fists in anger, Valeska observed as her vision began to cloud with red. She felt herself slipping into the same state she had experienced just one evening ago when she had nearly killed Katrina, but rather than give into these animalistic desires, she closed her eyes, grinded her teeth together, and attempted to carry out the same set of breathing instructions she had given Mercurio only moments ago. Her anger slowly began to seep away, but when Vandal started laughing again she felt it come back in almost full force.

Although her breathing technique had been enough to keep her Beast locked in its cage, it had not been enough to stop herself from lifting a fist and punching the glass in blind fury. In a raw display of power, her punch managed to crack the glass which turned out to be bullet proof. It was an impressive demonstration too, but one that unfortunately had her retracting her aching hand in order to nurse it. The ghoul on the other side of the glass actually looked fearful for a moment, even going as far as to take a step back in case Valeska went back to trying to break the small window. When she did not though, his cocky confidence quickly returned in full force.

"Nice try, Betty, now why don't you go on home?" he idiotically taunted.

Knowing that breaking the glass would have taken some effort, the dhampir spotted a door to her left and moved to open it. It was locked however, so once again she found herself resorting to physical violence by flat out kicking open the door and breaking the lock in the process. Peering around the small room in order to locate Vandal, she found him cowering in the corner with his hands high in the air as a sign of surrender. Not really giving a damn about his attempt to raise the white flag, she quickly closed the distance between them, grasped him firmly by the throat, and lifted him high off the ground by instinctively drawing on a bit strength she would have never dreamed she possessed. Sure there had been little things in her past that placed her physically above her peers, but she had always denied herself the pleasure involved with it by avoiding sports all together. Now however, it almost seemed like she were invincible, teetering on the edge of losing herself completely and enjoying every second of this newfound power.

"My name is NOT Betty, you pathetic fucking ghoul!" she screamed furiously in his face, specks of her saliva ending up on his face, "It's Valeska!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Vandal apologized in between his gasps for air. His legs dangled uselessly under her iron grip and his feeble attempt to pry loose from it proved unsuccessful.

"No you're not! The only reason you're saying that now is because your pitiful excuse for a life is in danger!" the dhampir snarled, bringing him closer to her face.

"Yes, of course you're right!" he quickly agreed as he nodded, desperate to say anything that might please her. "Please, just don't hurt me!"

"Oh, so when my friend's life is in danger it's ok to laugh at the situation, but when your life is in danger I should heed your request?" she demanded in disbelief, "I should kill you right now, just crush your windpipe and be done with it!"

"No! I'll give you that blood you asked for, just put me down!" the ghoul pleaded in coughs and sputters, his eyes wide with fear as he stared down at her.

"I can get the blood without your help!" the dhampir snapped, her anger still clearly present in her voice. "No one is going to miss a disgusting rat like you!"

"My master will! She is very powerful, and will seek retribution if you kill me!" Vandal warned his attacker, his ability to speak lessening as the seconds ticked by. Valeska simply scoffed at this meager threat of his, for she was already one step above him even before he had spoken.

"I doubt your master has any authority over my master, who by the way just happens to be the Prince of LA," Valeska informed him, her head tilted in amusement as her scowl had been transformed into a devilish smirk. Having this much power over another was actually fun for her, and though she greatly desired to break his neck, she was not that far gone in her anger to realize that killing someone's ghoul was bound to have unwanted political implications for her boss. Additionally if she murdered Vandal, then the Prince would have endless questions as to why she was at a blood bank in Santa Monica when she was supposed to be at home. No, she wasn't going to kill him, but the squirming worm before her didn't need to know that just yet.

"If you kill me now, then you will never have full, free access to the blood bank whenever you want!" he offered, his voice more clear now that Valeska had loosened her hold ever so slightly, "I can promise you that!"

"Whenever I want?" she asked, her voice taunting him just as he had done to her mere moments ago. "Human or vampire blood?"

"YES!" the ghoul agreed to desperately, "Now put me down!"

"Deal," Valeska accepted with a small smile. Heeding his request she moved to put him down, but since he did not specify as to what manner he wished this to be done, she threw him across the room as though his body were a ragdoll. This happened to be just in time as well, for Valeska soon felt a sweeping wave of fatigue over take her body. Luckily she had already made a frightening first impression with Vandal, and as he stood up he went into a coughing fit before rubbing his throat apprehensively.

"What are you…?" he enquired with a mild bit of fear still present in his weak voice.

"Your worst nightmare if you don't return with a bag full of vampire, now go!" Valeska snapped as he frantically scurried out of the room like the rat he was. As she waited with her foot tapping impatiently, she was stricken with the worried filled thought that he might have gone to the police, but fortunately he soon returned with what she had demanded. Offering it to her, the female ghoul lowered her crossed arms in order to snatch up the blood from him. "About damn time."

"I apologize, we're running low on vampire right now," Vandal apologized as Valeska examined the bag. It looked normal, for blood anyway, but the possibility that it had been poisoned or something crossed her mind.

"If this has been in any way tampered with, you better make sure you skip town, Vandal," she threatened.

"No need to be so paranoid, it's just a normal bag of vampire blood," he guaranteed, crossing his arms not in irritation, but in a way meant to protect himself.

"Good," was all the dhampir said as she turned on her heel. Before leaving completely however, she looked over her shoulder at Vandal one last time. "Oh, and if you ever tell anyone about this I _will _destroy you, and I don't mean by killing you either. My master is the Prince, and I have several other very powerful connections that will make it so you'll be wishing for death by the time they're through with you. Got it?"

Vandal did nothing but quickly nod, something that made him look like a ridiculous sort of bobble head. Smiling with satisfaction, Valeska placed the bag under her shirt to avoid getting odd looks from strangers, but soon wished she hadn't as the blood was freezing cold. Leaving the hospital through a back entrance that placed her in a dirty alley, the dhampir took the time needed to get back to Mercurio's house as an opportunity to dissect exactly what had transpired between Vandal and herself. Now that she was coming down from her power rush, she found herself in so much shock with how the events had unfolded, that she wasn't quite sure how to take it. On one hand she had gotten what she had come for plus more if she so chose to cash in on someday, but on the other hand she had nearly lost control of herself again. Lucky it was that she knew how to calm herself, but in the end she had still resorted to violent means to achieve her goals, something she rarely did unless she had no other choice.

Additionally, it was only now that she realized it, but reimagining some of her actions mirrored some of the things LaCroix did on a daily basis. From the way he tapped his foot impatiently with crossed arms right down to the way he usually turned curtly on his heel to leave another's presence had her being reminded of her previous worry of losing her identity. This could have perhaps been what her personality changed into should she be so close to giving into her Beast, but this thought, even when combined with the fact that she could now save her mentor's life, did little to ease her tensions. She was beyond frustrated, starving because she had no eaten, and absolutely exhausted both mentally & physically. The former came from every new twist she encountered around each corner, while the physical part presumably came from exerting her strength over Vandal. Never had she experienced such power before, but calling upon it was clearly something she should not do without a good cause unless she wanted to be constantly fatigued.

At least she had cowed Vandal into submission, as even though the possibility of him running to his master still existed, it was very unlikely. The ghoul was a gutless coward who taunted others behind the safety of a bullet proof glass window, so unless he was a complete idiot who had no knowledge of how vampire politics worked, he probably wouldn't tell anyone about what had happened. Part of her felt like that if she wanted to make sure of his silence, then it might be best to show a sign of good faith by returning with some cash to repay him. He definitely didn't deserve it, but it would have been her way of proving to him that not every sob story out there was being falsely made to acquire a fix of vampire blood. This was probably a useless gesture though, since Vandal obviously seemed like such a pessimist that her life lesson would have been wasted on him. Still, it was something to consider.

Sighing in frustration with all the thoughts and concerns that now plagued her mind, Valeska found herself back in front of the Santa Monica suites. It was no longer raining, something she was grateful for as she felt like she was nearly freezing to death, but even though the water had washed away most of the blood on the pavement, there was still ample evidence on the door to remind her of what she had to do. So, pulling open the entrance the ghoul made her way down the hall, deciding that whatever she had done had been for a good cause.

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**Author's Note: **I don't know about you guys and gals, but I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. It's interesting to experiment with more detailed styles of writing, as well as to throw in a few darker scenes involving Valeska's character. There isn't a whole lot for me to say at this point, other than LaCroix will be returning in the next chapter along with a quick cameo scene from Remy. Please drop a review if you can, because I'm always looking for anything that might help me improve! Thanks. =)


	40. What You See is What You Get

**Author's Note: **Yes, this chapter was a bit delayed, but once again my work has been pulling me away from my writing. I've got other major stresses going on in my life as well, and it's starting to take its toll. *le sad face* Fear not though, for the new chapter is here! Not a whole lot to say other than I'm really aiming to focus more on Valeska's personality. It's something I've been neglecting to do, so please feel free to drop your thoughts on this. Remy makes an appearance here as well, and even though Mercurio doesn't heal up completely until the PC heads out to the Elizabeth Dane, I decided to change that aspect for my story. Enjoy!

**Special Thanks:** Thanks to all my reviewers for the previous chapter who are Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, aberdeenkev, Haruhana, Leni, rednightmare, and fire4fun. I am so very appreciative of all of your feedback! A quick side note to those who have been communicating to me through PM, I promise to respond to you as soon as I can!

**Responses:** To Naruto Loves FemKyuubi: Yeah, Vandal is like the picture perfect image of a Malkavian ghoul, I'm not even kidding. Whenever I play VTMB, I too try to attack him through the glass window because he just pisses me off so bad lol.

To aberdeenkev: Dealing with an inner beast can do that to someone. I'll be sticking to the original plot, but which mods do you mean? I have played the clan mod, but that's it.

To Haruhana: It seems like everyone hates this guy rofl, so I'm glad this is going over well. xD

To Leni: Hello there! I'm glad you liked my Nosferatu chapter as I spent a few days trying to literally act like Gary Golden in order to better write a chapter through his POV. It makes things fun for me. :3 Hope to hear from you again in the future!

To rednightmare: I am so very glad to hear from you again. Your reviews just make me so giddy it should be criminal. We're already discussing the points you left in your review though, so no need to hash them out here. Thanks again for all the help!

To fire4fun: Wow, I had no idea you signed up to send me a message, but that's an incredible honor to me. Thank you so much for your kind words, and I promise not to drop Valeska's character. The plot of my story is supposed to focus on LaCroix and her, so that would be crazy if I did that. As for her personality, I'm still trying to flesh it out. It's easy to write for other characters, but not so much for one that is an OC.

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**Chapter 39 What You See is What You Get**

Once inside the suite building, Valeska pulled the chilled bag of blood out from underneath her shirt and moved to knock on Mercurio's door. No answer came from within however, which caused a bit of panic to travel through the ghoul's body for the second time that evening. It was possible that her mentor was simply so far out of it that a mere knock would not be enough to tear him from his slumber, but when she rapped upon the wood a bit louder and was met with silence once again, she wasted no time in pulling open the door. When a dear friend of hers was dying she had no time to waste with being courteous, and when she saw Mercurio lying on the floor she knew that rushing inside without his permission was the right thing to do.

"Mercurio?" Valeska addressed as she neared his body and shook it lightly. No response. "Mercurio!" This time around her voice was a bit more commanding. Glancing down at his chest to see it was barely moving, the female ghoul found her eyes widening. Knowing that she had only minutes to spare at this point, she quickly tore open the bag of blood at its neck, flipped her friend onto his back, and maneuvered the vitae dripping plastic past his lips that were parted slightly. A thought suddenly struck her though. What if her mentor frenzied on her like her boss had done only yesterday? Naturally her body would not be able to take such a beating two nights in a row, yet she knew that there was no other way of getting the blood down his throat so quickly. Swallowing back her fear, she focused on the task at hand and simply prayed that the evening wouldn't end with her throat being torn out.

Fortunately for everyone though, no desperate act of frenzying occurred. Within less than a minute her mentor's eyes suddenly flew open as he sat straight up in order to unleash a coughing fit that sprayed out flecks of blood onto his already ruined rug. Letting her shoulders relax, Valeska's attention wandered to his wounds which already looked infinitely better. His eyes, both of which were now fully open, had returned to their usual deep shade of blue and were no longer bloodshot red. The nose, which previously looked like it had been beyond repair, was no longer dripping blood like a leaky faucet. The purple & blue splotches along the visible parts of his body were healing up quite nicely, and even the broken bottle in his ribs had somehow pushed itself out of his skin. It was truly an incredible process to witness, and one that any individual might have dubbed a magic show if they were ignorant to the properties of vampire blood.

"Ugh…my friggin' head…" Mercurio groaned, a bit of vitae dribbling from his mouth as he spoke. Running a single hand across his face, he landed on his nose and instinctively tweaked it back into place. Something that sounded like a twig snapping came from it when he did this, along with a sharp inhale of pain and a wiggle from his nose as though he were a rabbit making sure that it was functioning properly. Glancing around and blinking a few times, a frown of confusion creeping onto his face. "How'd I end up on the ground…?" Unable to help herself, Valeska threw her arms around her mentor's neck and hugged him tightly, positively delighted that he was going to be okay. "Whoa now, kiddo! Still in a lot pain here!"

"Oh, sorry!" she apologized, swiftly releasing him from her hold, "Do you want some more morphine or anything? Maybe a towel for your nose?"

"Nah, the blood's doing its job. I'm just a big baby when it comes to pain," her mentor joked, grinning weakly with teeth that were still chipped, "Speakin' of which…no clue how ya got it from Vandal, but thanks, Val. I owe ya my life, an' I'm not sure what I would o' done if you hadn't stopped by."

"After everything you've done for me, I think this is the least I could have do to repay you," the ghoul pointed out with a smile of her own. Deciding that for the sake of his mental and emotional health, she would hold off on saying she had nearly killed Vandal for the vitae that had just saved his life. "So at the risk of sounding like an idiot, how are you feeling?"

"Bit out o' it still, but the pain's fadin' at least. Wouldn't mind gettin' a bite to eat though…" Mercurio responded as Valeska let out a snort of laughter.

"You almost die on me and your main concern is filling your stomach?" she teased, knowing that food right about then sounded heavenly. Her stomach had been growling almost nonstop ever since she left the Tremere chantry, but only now was she able to acknowledge that she had a pretty severe craving for Chinese.

"Hey now, a man's gotta eat!" he justified as he moved to sit up. His dislocated shoulder and broken leg that had yet to heal however hindered this action, making it so that any attempt to stand failed miserably. "Or not…" Stretching forward with a single hand, Mercurio lifted his torn pant leg to see his shin bone poking through his flesh. This image alone would have probably upset any normal person, but instead all Mercurio did was sigh as though this were a mild hindrance.

"Do we need to get you to a doctor, or will that, uh…heal on its own?" the dhampir asked hesitantly, rubbing at her lower arm.

"Yeah it'll heal, but it might take a while without some outside help," her mentor answered, his brow furrowing, "You got any experience in your past with settin' broken bones?"

"Uhm…well in my junior year of high school my class went on a field trip to a national park. One of my classmates was being a typical male, trying to show off to his friends, but somehow ending up with a dislocated shoulder in the process. We were in the middle of nowhere, but luckily our teacher had some first aid experience. Everyone was either too grossed out or simply didn't want to help, so it came down to me to help her out," Valeska recalled, "So yes, I have some experience, but it's not very much. I can twist your shoulder back in, but the leg…" Her voice trailed off as her eyes moved downward to his grievous injury. "I'm not a doctor, and to be honest I'd rather not risk making things worse."

"I could walk ya through it," he offered, before chuckling a bit when he saw her face scrunch up with discomfort, "Alright, alright, so settin' the leg's out. Think you can still help with the shoulder though?"

"I might be a little rusty, but I'll give it a shot," she accepted, "Here, let me help you up onto the couch. It'll be easier for me to access the shoulder that way." Moving a little closer to her mentor, she put his arm that wasn't dislocated around her shoulders and hauled him up. Balancing momentarily on his one good leg, he hopped a little to maintain this equilibrium before ultimately falling backwards onto his sofa.

"Damn, gonna have to get new furniture after this," Mercurio exhaled, as though such problems were on equal grounds with a dislocated shoulder. She figured this was his way of dealing with the pain, but still, it seemed like an odd thing to worry about right then and there.

"I've got some furniture cleaner I can give you the next time I stop by. I've never used it, but it's supposed to work on carpet too," Valeska quickly promised before changing topics; she needed him focused on the situation at hand. "Now do you want anything to bite down on or are you just going to grin and bear it?"

"Let's just get this over with, cuz it feels like I got bits o' broken glass stuck under my damn skin," her mentor grumbled irritably, staring straight ahead.

"If that's what you want…" the ghoul said as she grasped his hand. Gently she brought his arm straight out so that it was perpendicularly to his legs. "Take a deep breath…and here...we…go!" Pulling roughly on his arm, she quickly pushed his shoulder up and then twisted it inwards with an equal amount of speed. When she did this, a sickening cracking sound cut through the air, a noise that seemed to fit right in with the disturbing atmosphere of her mentor's screams of agony. "Okay it's in!"

"Fuck me!" he cursed, grasping his shoulder and falling sideways onto the sofa. "Goddamn that hurt like a mother!" Her mentor said nothing else as he buried his face into one of the sofa's cushions, but he did make a noise that was similar to tea kettle right before it starts to make that annoying high pitched screaming sound.

"You sure you don't want some more pain meds…?" she asked with concern, "I can get them for you right away if you want."

"More drugs on an empty stomach's a bad idea, kiddo, especially when the pain will go away on its own anyway. 'Sides, if I take any more now I might overdose, an' after tonight that would be insultin' way to go," Mercurio pointed out after removing his face from the seat cushion, "Food now, narcotics later if I need em'."

"Hold on now, don't you have a bit of explaining to do first?" Valeska implied as Mercurio looked utterly lost as to what she was hinting at. "You know…why I walked in to find your apartment covered in blood and you on death's door step? It just about gave me a heart attack you know…"

"Oh…right, sorry… The main man's got me workin' with the new kid to wipe some Sabbat warehouse off the map," her mentor explained, sitting himself back up as he spoke, "Found a crew that could get me some fireworks to get the job done, but stead o' makin' a fair trade they decide to gang up on me by jumpin' my sorry ass, beatin' me within an inch of my life, and then robbin' me blind."

"That's horrible…I'm sorry to hear that, Mercurio," the female ghoul sympathized as she seated herself next to him. She had the urge to place her arm around his shoulder in a comforting manner, but such emotional displays were awkward enough for her without having to worry about accidently hurting him again. "How much was the dynamite anyway? I'm assuming it had to be a lot…"

"Astrolite actually, and bout two-hundred or so. I brought an extra fifty in case negotiations went sour, but really wish I hadn't cuz looks like things were gonna turn to shit either way…" he answered glumly.

"Wait, so they tried to just up and kill so that they could take from you of a couple hundred bucks?" the dhampir exclaimed, unable to disguise her anger, "I've heard of worse things happening to a person, but that's like stabbing someone for an empty wallet!"

"That's LA gangs for ya, kiddo, no sense between any of em'. I'm guessin' they might o' thought I had more cash on me or somethin', but to be honest I don't really care bout the money right now. All I'm hopin' for is that the new kid will make those cocksuckers pay, nail em' straight to the goddamn wall…" her mentor grumbled, his face turning dark as though he were trying to picture his attackers suffering.

"I don't blame you for that, Mercurio, because if I were in your shoes I'd want to get back at them too. There's an old Klingon proverb that says 'revenge is a dish best served cold,' and it's one I definitely agree with," Valeska shared, "I know some people might think wasting energy on vengeance is petty, but sometimes it's justified."

"Did you just quote Star Trek on me, Val?" Mercurio queried with a face full of amusement.

"Uh…maybe?" she returned, picking at the sofa arm's smooth material awkwardly, "I'm kind of a nerd like that though, so don't be surprised if I start telling you to live long and prosper when I go to leave tonight." When she raised her hand and parted it in the typical Vulcan gesture that went along with this statement, Mercurio laughed. It was a friendly gesture though, and not one that was being done to poke fun at Valeska.

"You start doin' that an' I might follow suit," he commented as Valeska raised an eyebrow out of curiosity, "I never told ya? I used to watch the original generation all the time, but uh…don't tell anyone."

"I won't," the dhampir promised, "But you should really consider letting your inner geek come out more often. It can be a lot of fun to let loose, and if you're ever feeling up to a marathon I've actually got all three seasons and the original movies on DVD."

"Heh, I'll have think bout it. Does that answer all your questions bout what happened to me though?" her mentor requested, seething silently in pain as he moved his leg a little.

"For the most part, yeah. I still don't understand why that gang would risk jail time for murder they didn't even attempt to cover up, but no one said criminals were smart," Valeska responded, "I mean technically we're both criminals too, but we have a good reason for what we do…" She paused. "…well most of the time anyway."

"I think what ya mean to say is that we've got class, Val," he teased, turning up his ripped collar in a joking manner, "But now that we've got that outta the way, can I please get some grub? I haven't eaten today, and I'm friggin' starvin'!"

"Fair enough, I haven't eaten tonight either so should I order something in for us? Chinese maybe?" Valeska hinted at, her remaining intense desire to devour a bowl of Lo Mein noodles clearly influencing her words.

"Actually there's a mini fridge in the bedroom, so help yourself," her mentor instructed, pointing to one of the closed doors. "There are some towels in there too that you can use to dry off with. By the looks of ya, it must be pissin' buckets out there."

"Yeah it was coming down pretty hard, but I didn't mind it," the dhampir confirmed, standing up, "In fact, I think it's kind of relaxing to walk in a rainstorm, especially if there's _really_ loud thunder to listen to. Something about how it clears my head I guess."

"Eh, I hate rain. Sure it can be nice in the summer, but the friggin' humidity throws it all to hell," Mercurio said, rubbing his left ear lobe in between two fingers. It looked like he was picking off the dry blood or dirt it had been caked in.

"Each to their own I suppose," Valeska shrugged as she ventured towards the bed room door. Upon opening it she was met with total darkness, so naturally she took to swiping at the walls for a switch in order to shed some light on the area. Shortly after the start of her search she located one, and after turning it on she saw an illuminated bedroom connected to a small kitchenette. The same multicolored tile and black marble walls encompassed the room, with similar lacy beige curtains that were presumably closed for privacy or the comfort of a darkened room to sleep in during the day. In the bedroom there was a twin sized bed with neutral colored sheets, a small end table with an old fashioned alarm clock atop it, a few canvas paintings of what looked to be a city in New York, an elongated dresser made of wood placed against the back wall, and hanging right above that was a flat screen TV facing opposite the bed. The kitchenette was far simpler as all it had was the mini fridge that wasn't actually that mini, an empty sink, some countertops, a microwave, a toaster oven, and a few cabinets.

Overall the place looked quite normal, but there was something about it that rubbed the ghoul the wrong way. She wasn't able to put her finger on it either, but as she made her way into the kitchen it hit her: the room was too clean. Not a huge cause for concern, but this struck her as particularly odd as not even her boss's penthouse was this spotless. Even the air here smelled like lemon scented Pine-Sol mixed with bleach, while the floors practically sparkled. From her own experience and that which she had witnessed on television crime shows, that typically meant someone was hiding something, such as a murder. Valeska had no reason not to believe her mentor's story about being jumped, but she still had the sneaking suspicion in the back of her mind that he might have accidently done something to inspire their wrath without realizing it. Mercurio described them as being pretty stupid though, so who knew for sure?

Whatever the case was, she knew that these thoughts of possible murder had probably been inspired by her paranoia. After all, there were a million other things she could think of that could have accounted for such a clean room. The main room may not have smelled of bleach (though it would be difficult to sniff it out over all the blood), but it was possible that Mercurio was simply a neat freak. Judging by his personality this did not seem likely though, so perhaps instead he merely had a maid that stopped by every once in a while to tidy up. It was also possible that he was just too busy working for their master that he frequently ate out and immediately crashed on his couch when he came home rather than use the bed/kitchen. Either way, even if he really had killed someone, Valeska found herself caring little about it. She knew she was one hundred percent safe with Mercurio, and who was she to judge him when she had done equally evil things in her past?

Disregarding her thoughts of homicide, Valeska took to opening the cabinets, all of which were mostly empty except for some cleaning products, a jar of peanut butter, a box of cereal, and some colorful dishes. Eventually she did find what she was searching for, which was a pile of white, fluffy towels neatly folded that her mentor had mentioned. Selecting one of the larger ones and making sure she put everything back in its proper place, she began to dry off. Her dripping wet hair that had fallen out of its bun was really what she considered to be her primary concern, as she knew that if she didn't situate it just right then it would come out looking like a horrifying version of a pterodactyl nest minus the actual dinosaurs. It was an area where most of her self-consciousness stemmed from, so she was sure to use the microwave as a sort of mirror in which to better comb her hair out. By the time she had finished with this task though, she actually looked like one of those models that flipped their hair back in ridiculous patterns for a fancy shampoo commercial. The idea was somehow hilarious to her, and even more so when she saw the almost comical expression of disbelief she wore on her face.

After a slight bit of quiet giggling, she approached the not-so-mini refrigerator and opened it to see a few bottles of beer, three wrapped up gas station sandwiches, a banana, a jug of milk three quarters full, a half stick of butter on a dish, and the first sign of filth she had seen yet: an empty bag whose contents had thin lines of ruby red tracing the inside edges. Raising an eyebrow the ghoul picked up the bag she presumed had once held blood, and examined it closely. Naturally there was no indication of whom it had come from, but there wasn't even the slightest hint of what blood type it had been or where it had originated from either as the front of it was blank. She wondered briefly if it had contained vampire vitae at some point, and it seemed quite logical for her to assume that if this were the case then it had probably come from the Prince. If that was true though, then why did her boss insist on having her drink directly from his wrist? Was it because he didn't trust her to drink the stuff when she was alone or was it something else?

Shrugging, the ghoul decided that like possible murder, it wasn't really that big of a deal. Partaking in her boss's vitae was actually something she considered quite intimate, so if that meant she would have to continue sucking on his wrist whenever he deemed it so, then she didn't really mind. Grabbing up the sandwiches, the banana, and the beer because that was far more preferable than entertaining the idea of drinking plain milk by itself, the female ghoul kicked the fridge shut with her foot so that she might return to the main room with her armful of goodies.

"Your fridge was kind of skeletal, so I hope sandwiches are okay," Valeska announced as she stepped through the area in which the rooms connected. "I figur-" Freezing in mid-sentence, the female ghoul, who had stopped moving forward entirely, noticed that someone else was present in the room. At first she didn't recognize the red headed male standing in the front entrance, and as such her mind immediately launched into its usual worst case scenario mode that somehow ended with the theory that he was there to finish Mercurio off. However, before she could break off one of the beer bottles as a makeshift weapon and jump in front of her mentor, she soon realized that the handsome young man was Isabella Rivera's childe, the Toreador fledgling whom had been rescued by Nines. She wondered briefly why she hadn't been able to comprehend this earlier, but perhaps it was because of the confident expression he wore that contrasted greatly with the previous one full of terror she had seen at the trial.

Both men said nothing as they stared at her, though whether that was because of the dumbfounded look on her face or the odd way in which she had slicked her hair back, she had no idea. At least the Toreador fledgling's intent was quite clear, as he was eyeing her figure up and down as though he might pounce on her like a piece of meat. It made her feel insanely uncomfortable too when she crossed the room to dump the food onto the couch, as she couldn't figure out whether his lustful eyes were following her because he was viewing her sexually or because he hoped she would be his next meal. In a way it reminded her of her encounter with Velvet, who had done nearly the exact same thing. Perhaps it was a Toreador thing.

"Well now, Mercurio, you didn't tell me you kept the company of beautiful women," the fledgling stated, obviously addressing her mentor, but looking at Valeska the whole time he spoke. Valeska felt her cheeks turn hot, but she associated this to fledgling's slight accent she couldn't quite place. It in no way sounded similar to LaCroix's voice, but she somehow found herself being reminded of him anyway as though the image of her boss complimenting her was what had brought the crimson color to her face, not the Toreador's statement. Then again, everything as of late seemed to remind her of the Prince so this point was moot.

"She's a ghoul like me; I'm teachin' her bout vampires," was all Mercurio said, watching the Toreador closely with a glint of irritation in his eyes.

"Oh so she's not your lover then?" the Toreador asked before closing the distance between Valeska and himself so quick, that she barely had time to blink, "My name is Remy, Remy Beaumont." Taking up her hand, he kissed it while holding that same intense eye contact. "And what might your name be, my lovely?"

"V-Valeska," she stammered, a bit taken back at his speed. Clearing her throat she repeated herself with a bit more confidence, "It's Valeska."

"Valeska hm? That sounds…exotic," Remy purred with light green eyes that shimmered under the light. Valeska had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at this point, because although he was handsome and had some charming moves, she could already tell before he had even opened his mouth that he was probably a womanizer. Such men were not ones that she was in the habit of hanging out with, as she knew first hand from experience how much heartbreak usually followed after any sort of romantic encounter with them. Her first boyfriend had been a womanizer, but she was young and naïve, so naturally his charm had blinded her to the warning signs until it was too late for her to identify them. It was this reason then for why she would be sure to avoid Remy as much as possible, as the last thing she wanted was to get caught up in yet another crush on a dead guy.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Beaumont," Valeska addressed with a polite nod before quickly removing her hand from his. Remy didn't even seem to mind this action though, as he actually smirked at her as though she had presented some new challenge to him.

"Please, call me Remy," he insisted with a wink, his eyes moving down to her breasts momentarily before they immediately shot straight back up to her eyes. "Say Valeska, how would you like to go out for a li-"

"Did I mention that Val is my daughter?" Mercurio suddenly interrupted, more than a bit of annoyance present in his voice. Both the Toreador's and the dhampir's eyebrows shot up in surprise as they turned to look at him. For a second nothing was said between anyone. Remy had taken to blinking a few times while he looked back and forth between the two as though he were comparing similar physical features. Valeska on the other hand, simply sent her mentor a grateful smile.

"Really?" the Toreador questioned, a hint of disbelief in his voice, "I mean I can kind of see the resemblance…but you look kind of young to be a dad, Mercurio."

"Ghouls don't age numbnuts, now quit flirtin' with my daughter before I go for the shotgun," Valeska's mentor warned, his tone slightly teasing, but mostly not.

"Hey it's cool, I was just getting to know her is all," Remy justified, scratching at his upper arm as he told this obvious lie, "But I have to hand it to you…your wife must have been pretty hot." Mercurio just glared at the smiling fledgling, no doubt because his wife was dead and Remy was_ still_ unintentionally flirting with the female ghoul when he had been told to stop. Deciding to step in before things got messy, Valeska spoke up.

"We don't like to talk about mom. Now is there something I can help you with?" she offered, hoping to draw his attention away from the touchy subject with a bit of deception.

"Can you tell me what to do with this Astrolite?" the fledgling inquired as he gestured behind him to what looked like explosives strapped to a large plastic bottle.

"You actually got it back?" Mercurio questioned in partial disbelief before Valeska could reply, "Didja waste those junkie pricks?"

"Do I look like the type that's going to throw down with a bunch of low life gangsters and risk getting blood on my new shoes?" the Toreador rudely countered with an almost offended expression. As if to emphasize this point, his arm made a wide sweeping motion to draw attention to his shoes. At first Valeska thought that his dramatic response that held a distinctive edge of prissiness to it was Remy's attempt at a joke. However, she soon realized that this was not the case as the fledgling's expression was dead serious. It almost made her want to burst into laughter because of it, and judging from Mercurio's face, it looked like he had found this aspect of Remy's personality just as humorous.

"Calm down, prima donna, it was just a question," Valeska's mentor joked, "Didja at least get my money back?"

"Couldn't find it, sorry," Remy answered, scratching at his upper arm again. Valeska raised cocked an eyebrow at this, because although itching was a common motion many people did while in conversation, the dhampir still found it strange coming from Remy. This was not only because she had seen him do it earlier, but mostly because this scratching action seemed to occur right after his exchange of a blatant lie. She needed more evidence to confirm this, but if her assumption turned out to be true then she would definitely be having a word with the fledgling before the night was through. No one cheated her friend and got away with it.

For the next five to ten minutes then, the female ghoul remained silent and focused her attention on Remy's body language while he spoke with her mentor. Due to this she wasn't really paying that much attention to what was being said, but from what she could gather there was some kind of blood feud going on between that rude Therese woman and some Nosferatu who could tell the fledgling where the warehouse was. The whole thing sounded like one big political fiasco, and all Valeska could think was that she was glad that it wasn't her problem. She had enough issues to deal with as is, such as the fact that she had effectively established that whenever Remy was lying, he really did scratch at his upper arm. There were several examples for her to pull from in determining this tell of his, but just to make sure, she would ask him one final question that would probably end up embarrassing and exposing him all in one fell swoop.

"Remy, I have a question for you," Valeska spoke up after it seemed like he was about to head out.

"Oh? You've been so quiet that I started to think that my charm had stolen your breath away," the grinning fledgling flirted, repeating his disregard to any warning Mercurio might have given him before. "What might you want to know from your good friend, Remy?"

"Have you ever contracted any sexual diseases in the past?" she bluntly requested out of nowhere. Unaware that her mentor had started drinking from one of the beer bottles, she suddenly heard him spitting out a mouthful of liquid followed by some coughing. Remy on the other hand seemed barely affected by her comment, as the wide grin on his face remained while his hands rested comfortably at his sides.

"Suddenly interested in me hm, Valeska?" Remy deflected with a smirk, "I knew you couldn't resist the charm of Remy Beaumont." This time around, the dhampir did roll her eyes.

"Just answer the question…" the female ghoul ordered as she groaned inwardly.

"Val, what are you goin' on bout…?" Mercurio questioned, obviously beyond clueless and perhaps a bit concerned too.

"You'll see," was all the dhampir said, "Well, Remy?"

"I swear on my mother's grave that I have never contracted a sexual disease in my past," the Toreador promised with one hand over his heart and the other with its palm facing Valeska. Shortly after this little scene however, he immediately rubbed at his upper arm, causing the dhampir to smirk at this success at hers.

"You filthy little liar…" Valeska insulted, crossing her arms over her chest as she moved her hip to the side. Nothing much else was needed to be said at this point so she took to glaring at the fledgling. At this his smirk seemed to falter for a split second before it immediately sprung back up in full force.

"Well now that's not a nice thing to say to someone, now is it?" Remy teased, sticking his hands deep in the pockets of his blue jeans "Besides, I'm a badass vampire now, so even if I did have any diseases as a human they'd be gone by now anyway. What are you worried about?"

"I couldn't give a damn about whether you had every disease in the book at some point in your life, because I would never sleep with someone like you anyway," she snapped, a bit more hostility in her voice than was intended, "I just wanted to catch you in a lie is all. You have a tell you see, and one that told me earlier that you did find Mercurio's money." At this point the Toreador could no longer keep the same smug smirk on his face, as it had instead been replaced with an expression of unintentional shock as well as slight embarrassment.

"Is this true, Remy?" Mercurio asked, his eyes trained on the fledgling but his face revealing no other sign of emotion, "Do you have my money?"

"If I say yes, are you two going to kick my ass?" the fledgling cautiously countered, his body language looking like he was only two steps from booking it out the front door.

"All we're going to do is politely ask that you return it," Valeska answered before Mercurio could speak. She knew that her mentor was more likely to resort to violence than she was based off his temper, especially since the night hadn't been that kind to him in the first place. "My dad and I make very little money as is, Remy. Just do the right thing and return it."

"I'll give it back if you give me a passionate kiss," the Toreador offered with the tilt of his head. Valeska's jaw literally fell open in shock, and with her mentor looking like he wanted to strangle Remy, it was enough to make him revise his statement. "Oh relax you two, it was just a joke. I could never say no to a face like yours anyway, Valeska. Here you go." Pulling an envelope out of his back pocket, he handed it over to Mercurio who snatched it away without saying anything.

"Thank you, Remy," she acknowledged. "Now you should probably head out soon. The sun will be up in a few hours and you still need to talk to Therese."

"Ahh, good point my clever, clever girl. Until our next meeting then I suppose," he said with a smile before turning to Mercurio, "As for that deal we spoke of earlier, I accept. If you provide me with some big guns and some good info, then I won't tell the Prince anything."

"I appreciate it," Mercurio acknowledged, his shoulders sinking slightly in relief.

"Anytime, but real quick before I go… you said Jeanette was pretty hot. What's Therese like? Is she as much a sex goddess as her sister is?" Remy enquired as Valeska literally face palmed.

"She will chew you up and spit you out before you can drop your first cheesy pick up line, Remy…" Valeska exhaled in irritation.

"Ah, but she's never met Remy Beaumont before!" the Toreador arrogantly exclaimed as the dhampir decided not to waste any more words on him. Maybe it was just her, but this fool didn't sound like he was going to last one week as a vampire, let alone an entire year.

"She ain't kiddin', Remy. Therese Voerman will cut your balls off an' feed em' to a junk yard dog if you start throwin' that flirty attitude of yours round," Valeska's mentor cautioned, "Just get in, be respectful, an' get out."

"Yes, yes, I'll take it under advisement," the fledgling practically ignored as he made his way to the exit, "Fare thee well, my friends, I go either to my grave or to the best night of my life!" With that he left the suite completely, as Valeska and her mentor stared after him in awe.

"That man has got to be the most idiotic person I have probably ever encountered. Who the hell looked at him and thought that it would be a good idea to turn him into a vampire?" the female ghoul ranted in annoyance while Mercurio just shook his head, "Now I know exactly why LaCroix wanted this guy dead, because he's probably going to break the Masquerade ten times over before he forgets that sun bathing can no longer be a part of his hedonistic lifestyle!" Mercurio merely chuckled a bit before taking a swig from his beer.

"Friggin' Toreadors, Val. Pretty to look at, but usually they've got next to nothin' goin' on upstairs," her ghoul mentor reminded her.

"I'll say…he didn't even seem to notice that you weren't bleeding to death anymore. Least you got him to stop flirting with me kind of; thanks for that by the way. I was afraid I might have to get violent with him if he didn't stop staring at my breasts," she announced as she sat back down on the least bloody part of the sofa. Picking out one of the sandwiches, she quickly unwrapped it and took a huge bite, not caring that the soggy thing wasn't really that appetizing.

"You're thankin' me? Kiddo, I would o' had no idea he had my money if you hadn't said somethin'!" Mercurio proclaimed, instinctively picking the lettuce out of his sandwich as he spoke, "Out o' curiosity, how didja know?"

"Well to be honest I think the only reason I figured it out is because I didn't involve myself in your guy's discussion, but if it helps, he scratches his arm every time he's lying," Valeska revealed with a mouth full of food.

"No shit…" he commented as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment, "Christ, Val, you go to a Malk party and come back a human lie detector!"

"Oh, well uh, that's kind of why I'm here…" the dhampir began, feeling a bit awkward, "A lot of stuff has happened over the past few nights, and I find myself needing some advice."

"Yeah? What happened this time?" her mentor inquired, his mouth now also full of food. Apparently manners were not at the top of their priority list when starving stomachs were involved.

"Oh nothing major…just being forced to kill a guy, finding out about blood bonds, getting blackmailed, almost sleeping with the Anarch leader, nearly dying, and finding out that I was never a human to begin with," the female ghoul replied with a shrug. The indifferent tone she used was meant to be seen as a joke, but her mentor nearly choked on his sandwich.

"Goddamn, kiddo, I was thinkin' you were gonna tell me you and the main man made out or somethin'! Heh, and I thought my night was bad!" he exclaimed, making it so it was the dhampir's turn to nearly choke on her food.

"Why on earth would you think that Sebastian and I kissed?" she demanded before her mentor gave her a skeptical look.

"Oh, so it's Sebastian now huh?" Mercurio smirked. Valeska opened her mouth to say something, but quickly shut it when no words came out. She hadn't even realized she had used her boss's first name either until now; it just sort of slipped out and left her feeling ashamed for some reason. "Hey now, I was just kiddin'. How's bout you start at the beginnin' huh? Just let it all out."

"Are you sure you want to hear _everything_?" Valeska requested, "There's a lot to tell…"

"I asked didn't I?" he answered with a comforting smile that made the female ghoul smile. Her life as of late may not have been the greatest, but she was truly fortunate to have such a great friend. He really _was_ like a father to her, and in some small way he was also similar to her grandmother in that he was always willing to lend a listening ear.

As per his request then, Valeska started at the beginning with Grout's dinner party and was sure to lay out all the details for him to analyze. She shared the more carefree events first, such as being flirted with by Velvet (something he found hilarious), and getting to know LaCroix better through a dance. Mercurio showed no signs of being judgmental about this, so she continued by shifting the ambience of the conversation towards a darker approach by divulging her meeting with Maximillian Strauss, her findings within the Malkavian mansion, and her violent encounter with John, the insane ghoul she had killed.

Her mentor seemed to fall very quiet at this point, and it was obvious by his expression that he felt guilty for not informing her of the knowledge behind blood bonds earlier. This was nothing when compared to how upset he was though when she told him about how the Prince had blackmailed her though, something that had the male ghoul standing straight up despite the fact his leg was still busted. Luckily Valeska managed to talk him down from his suicidal desire of wanting to head downtown to give LaCroix a piece of his mind, but for the next few minutes she had to listen to him apologize profusely for purposefully keeping her in the dark. Of course she forgave him, as she couldn't blame him for being so compelled to carry out their master's orders due to the half a century blood bond they had shared.

After that she went on to tell him about her encounter with Nines Rodriguez, and how it eventually escalated to the two getting hot and heavy back at her apartment. She was sure that the story she told Mercurio was the same one she had told her boss, not only because she wanted to keep all the mildly deceptive details straight in her head, but in the instance that LaCroix interrogated Mercurio, he would hear the same recount. Was she being paranoid? Just a little, but it was better to be safe than sorry. At least her mentor found the whole thing amusing, but when he chuckled it sounded more like he felt bad for her than anything.

Following that was her experience of attending the trial and execution of Isabella Rivera, something that Mercurio was in no way envious of seeing as how he didn't like being directly involved in vampire politics. However, when she told him of how the Prince was attacked and later frenzied on her, she had to calm him down yet again from marching down to Venture Tower. This repeat occurrence would have been funny if it weren't so sad, but the whole conversation reminded her of a bad comedy routine that lacked the cheap laughter of a background audience. This quick temper that stemmed from wanting to protect her was just something she would have to get used to, though calming him down proved to be even simpler this time around because she chose to reveal the tender moment the female ghoul had shared with their master. Her mentor didn't seemed convinced that it was genuine, but when she went on to tell him that the two were getting along like good friends rather than enemies, he seemed to relax a bit. He still made sure to warn her, a gesture that was not needed, but still appreciated.

Finally, the conversation began to come to a close as Valeska focused on what had brought her to Mercurio in the first place, her conversation with the Tremere Primogen. Everything that had been discussed between Strauss and herself was retold in great detail to her mentor, including her father's history, the reveal of her identity, the test the Regent had used on her, and of course the offer to find out more about dhampirs should she give him her blood. She shared with him her paranoia with doing such a thing, and how the dream she had experienced about her father might have been a set up. Once again he became silent, but not because of any guilt, but rather the interest he held with the topic. In fact, it was odd to notice but for the entire duration of this section of their conversation he hadn't said a single word. Instead he just sat there, letting his body language and constantly changing facial expressions do the talking for him. By the time she had finished speaking then, he looked practically exhausted with all the information he had been given. It was not enough that he had been made to suffer a near death experience, but now he was faced with trying to assist his recently 'adopted daughter' with a decision that was not easy to make.

"You ever not get into trouble, Val?" Mercurio asked, trying to lighten the mood with a joke. Next to him was a pile of empty beer bottles, which contrasted greatly to the one that the female ghoul was still trying to finish. The two of them had both finished their sandwiches, and had decided to split the banana equally. Its peel now lay in the pile of wrappers and bottles too.

"It does seem to follow me around a lot," Valeska replied with a small smile. "I just wish that it would give me a break every once in a while, or space these events out by a few weeks rather than three days. I mean I didn't even tell you some of the other stuff because I didn't want to overwhelm you."

"I've got broad shoulders, kiddo, lay it on me," he instructed.

"Well uh, I frenzied for the first time …" she revealed apprehensively, "It happened right after Sebastian almost, uh…drained me, so his secretary figured she would save my life by feeding me her blood. In return I tore out her carotid artery…"

"Did you kill her…?" her ghoul mentor asked quietly as Valeska hurriedly shook her head no, "Least ya got that goin' for you. How'd it feel?"

"Terrifying…but incredible too," the female ghoul breathed, "I had no idea at the time that most of my strength came from being a dhampir, but the power…" She fell silent for a moment before continuing. "I felt the same thing earlier with Vandal, there's just no way of describing what it feels like to give into your inner Beast."

"I've frenzied before too, an' I can understand it bein' an accident, but you frenzied on Vandal too?" he questioned in disbelief, "I know the kid's a whacko, but you need to get a handle on that, Val."

"I stopped myself before I frenzied on him," Valeska quickly reassured, "I just might have lost my temper is all by threatening to kill him if he didn't give me any vampire blood." Mercurio just stared at her. "Well what was I supposed to do? You were dying for god's sake!"

"Hey you've got no beef with me, Val. That kid's had it comin' for some time now, but I'm just surprised to hear you're the one that gave it to him," Mercurio said, "Would o' loved to have been there to see his face though…"

"That part was pretty funny actually," the dhampir smirked, "He looked like he was going to wet his pants, and his voice sounded kind of squeaky when I was holding him up by the throat."

"I bet," Mercurio returned before the smile fell from his face, "I know it can be fun, but just don't let it control you, aright?" Valeska couldn't see the future, and since she didn't want to make a promise she couldn't keep, she merely nodded. "Aright then, let's get back to business then. Now you were tryin' to decide whether to trust the Regent or not, right?"

"Yeah…on the one hand I have the chance to learn more about what I am and what I'm capable of, but on the other hand…" she began, her eyes on the ground.

"You might end up bein' a sleeper agent or somethin' just as bad," he finished for her, as the female ghoul nodded gratefully.

"Glad we're on the same track…so what do you know about the Tremere Primogen?" Valeska requested, leaning forward in the anticipation of information.

"Eh…not much sadly. I only dealt with the guy once, and lemme tell ya, he creeps me out," her ghoul mentor shared, his face full of unease as though he were reliving this interaction, "It was like talkin' to a stone statue, cold an' emotionless until I called him Max…uh don't do that by the way unless you wanna piss him off…"

"I'll keep that in mind," Valeska promised with a sympathetic smile before she gestured for him to continue.

"Well there ain't much more to say, Val. He's a Tremere, which means he's probably got a long list o' secrets, an' he's not in any position to share em'…" he continued.

"Damn it…" she sighed irritably, not at her mentor, but at the situation in general, "Well what should I do then…? I'm so lost and my mind's just going around in circles over and over again. I mean, what would you do?"

"Me? No clue, but I guess it just comes down to what's more important to ya. Is the risk of findin' out what you can do worth the possible risk? Or is the price too heavy to pay?" Mercurio explained. Valeska fell silent, her eyes staring off blankly.

"You know…I tend to overanalyze things so much that I often forget things can be that simple. When you put it like that I don't think it's worth the risk, or at least not yet anyway," the dhampir announced after a short moment of quiet contemplation, "I'm already bonded to one vampire as is, and I don't really want any harm coming to Sebastian if I can help it. For now then, I think I'll just turn down Strauss's offer."

"It's probably for the best, kiddo. I mean you were fine bein' left in the dark before, so I think most of that stuff is just better left bein' forgotten. If you want help learnin' your disciplines, an' controllin' your beast though, I can help out with that," her mentor offered as his pupil gave him a weak smile.

"Thanks I think I might just do that. But uh, do you think I can use your laptop real quick? I know it's kind of an out of nowhere request to be making right now, but technically I'm supposed to be at home right now per Sebastian's orders," Valeska informed him. "He said he'd be sending me an email, and like a complete idiot I totally forgot about it until now…"

"Sure, no problem," Mercurio allowed, reaching under his sofa to pull out a thin, silver laptop. "An' don't be so hard on yourself. It's been a hard enough night for both of us, so an email from your boss is bound to take the back seat burner in your mind."

"Yeah, I guess," she shrugged, still feeling a bit stupid. Saying nothing else she opened the device (one that had a few drops of blood on its screen), and powered it up. As the OS welcome screen loaded, Mercurio decided to clean himself up a bit in the bathroom since his leg was to the point where he could limp to get where he needed to go. By the time Valeska had opened her email though, her heart practically sank when she read, and reread the email from her boss.

"Oh you have to be kidding me…!" she cried in exasperation.

* * *

**Author's Note: **What could the email be about? *dramatic music* Well I'll leave that up to the reader to decide, but have no fear, it will be revealed in the next chapter one way or another. I haven't decided whether to make it through LaCroix's POV or Val's, but it will probably be the former. I might have made Mercurio a bit over the top in this chapter with his temper, but I'm guessing that if any normal person had nearly died and was doped up on Morphine then they probably wouldn't be as in control of their emotions as most. I tried to emphasize on the father-daughter relationship between these two while building on Val's personality and showing more than telling. I might have succeeded, or I might have failed miserably. Please let me know through a review (or PM if you'd prefer) about how you felt with this chapter. I'm always open to constructive criticism. Thanks!


	41. The Man Who Would Be King

**Author's Note: **To all of my fans I am so sorry for how long this chapter has been delayed. Like I stated a few chapters back, my schedule has been very chaotic. Events concerning my life in general have been very stressful, that I've only had a few hours each night if that to focus on my writing. Sometimes my work doesn't come out as well when I'm stressed out either, so I've been trying to take my time with these recent chapters. I apologize to my readers, but again, future chapters will probably be delayed just as much. Have no fear though; I am _not_ stopping this story. Anyway, this chapter is through LaCroix's POV and it gives some more backstory, covers a few issues like his involvement with Valeska, etc. Enjoy!

**Special Thanks: **Thanks to Misery-Known for faving my story, and to my reviewers who are aberdeenkev & Naruto Loves FemKyuubi!

**Responses:** To aberdeenkev: Well I designed Remy to be that way, but you should be happy to know that his arrogance isn't going to last. As a mortal he may have been irresistible in his mind to women, but as a vampire he's nothing more than a pawn. That's enough to crush anyone's self-image!

To Naruto Loves FemKyuubi: I'm not entirely sure of this, but I've heard that if you use the no clip cheat you can attack Vandal; I'll have to try it out! I'm pleased to hear you enjoyed the last chapter, but I do have to say that all of my research has determined that dhampir blood cannot bond other people to them. LaCroix is safe from this happening to him, though he might not think so when he finds out she is a dhampir. After all, knowledge of them is pretty limited.

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**Chapter 40 The Man Who Would Be King **

Prince LA was beyond irritated. His annoyed sighs, disapproving glares, and impatient responses should have been enough to make this fact abundantly clear to others, but stupidity seemed to be in high demand tonight. Almost every one of his employees had somehow managed to push his buttons, and one individual in particular had gone as far as to use a forgetful memory for not finishing his assigned task. It was complete nonsense of course, and it had nearly been enough to have the fool permanently barred from his city for insubordination. Anyone with an ounce of intelligence knew that spewing out excuses like that in the presence of the Prince often proved to be a suicidal action, especially when he needed no assistance in raising his anger levels. Most also knew that Sebastian LaCroix expected nothing but the best from those that served under him. However, that too had apparently been thrown out the window as though it were an old wives tale rather than the absolute truth that it was.

At least his secretary had enough experience to realize that she would be walking on eggshells to please him, but to be fair, Miss Thornton had been that way ever since she had been brought under his command. Oddly enough though, this talent of hers actually seemed to be intensified lately like she was purposefully balancing on a knife's edge for reasons that went beyond her normal duties. Naturally this roused the Prince's suspicions. Her mental capabilities were not so advanced that she could outmaneuver his own (a reason she was still alive no doubt), but it was possible that she had anticipated an early termination of their contract. He had been certain that his attitude towards her had not given him away in the slightest, but perhaps it was this conscious effort he made that had exposed him. That was highly doubtful, but even if she had somehow become aware of his plans there was nothing she could do to change his mind from going through with it anyway. There were very few details left to finalize after all, and the independent Assamite assassins he occasionally deployed had grown restless as of late. The email he had sent to Valeska in terms of meeting his contact was already in place as well, for in his eyes such a task would be an excellent opportunity to test his ghoul's loyalties.

The Toreador then, was as good as gone at this point. Even he could admit that it was a bit of a cold decision, but as a Ventrue he knew the importance of setting aside his emotions when it came to things like this. A good example of this would have been that since Katrina had served him faithfully over the years, she deserved better than to be swiftly replaced within the course of a single evening. At the same time, logic decreed that this was exactly why he needed someone new in his secretarial position. Vampires like her were a dime a dozen, and though she had the necessary manners he demanded from his employees, she had grown to be a nuisance over the past few months.

As she was from clan Toreador it was expected for her to be a bit more…human when it came to her emotions. Hers however, had gotten to the point of being almost unstable. This trait of hers was most transparent when Valeska entered or left his office, almost like his secretary was jealous of their meetings. Such a notion made him feel ridiculous just thinking about it though, so he quickly threw it from his mind. There was likely some other reason for her behavior that hinged on something other than a vague concept of affection she had for her superior, but in the end it didn't really matter. As harmless as she may have appeared on the surface, he knew better than to disregard her as a possible threat. Her emotional instability made her dangerous, and since she had been made privy to many of the secrets he had hoped to keep under wraps, it was clear to him that disposing of her was a far safer choice than simply firing her. Was it fair to Miss Thornton? Well no, but neither was unlife in general. He had warned her that would be consequences for her emotional outbursts, but it had been she who had chosen not to listen.

However, the anticipation of his secretary's death was not what had him on edge, as in LaCroix's eyes this was barely worth being concerned about. No, there was another reason he stood staring blankly down at his city like one of the many stone gargoyles that decorated the premise of his tower. It was the same reason for why his heart just wasn't in his work this night, and for why he had sent the Sheriff out so that Prince LA might be alone with his thoughts. Any normal person might have incorrectly assumed that he was straining under the pressure of his position, but only the truly astute would have been able to recognize that his attitude stemmed from a deeper, more personal issue. His motive for neglecting the pile of paperwork on his desk then, was due to the dream, no, the flashback he had experienced the previous night.

One could hardly blame him for thinking such things when the images from his sleeping mind had been burned into his mind, but it was infuriating to discover how very distracting ghosts that had been laid to rest so long ago could be. For a while now he had gone without reliving a single harsh memory involving his family, but the events of last night had made it so all his efforts had been done in vain. There were rational explanations for why this had probably happened, ranging all the way from a near death experience to Valeska's unusual blood, but now it was proving to be quite the weakness for him. Although it was not an easily exploitable weakness, it was still one that prevented him from effectively focusing on his work. He set the standards so high for his workers that it only made sense for him to provide an example for them to follow.

Instead, the weight of his sister's death over two centuries ago bogged him down with guilt that wouldn't leave him no matter how hard he tried. He knew that contemplating hindsight was without a doubt pointless, and as such he knew how absurd his current behavior was. Danielle was dead. There was nothing he could do to change that, and even if he had the power to do so, he wouldn't. He couldn't. His sister deserved to rest, and foolishly making a deal with the Giovanni to rip her spirit from where ever it resided would have been both selfish and cruel. Why then, if he could accept this so easily, could he not move on from it? Was it because he truly felt guilty about her death or was it that he yearned for the one time in his human existence that he actually felt true compassion from another?

Sure there had been a time when his parents had cared for him too, but that memory had become so twisted by time that most of what he could recall about the two was negative. His sister on the other hand had selflessly loved him until the day she died, so perhaps it was a combination of both that had him unable to pull away from his brooding. It made him wonder if this was what some of the Elders meant when they said nostalgia could be deadly. Still, it was quite unusual for him to get caught up in such recollections when they rarely affected him like they were now. Not even the horrors he had been made to witness in centuries ago battles disturbed him so greatly, but even that would have been a welcome change of pace in his eyes.

Deciding that the attempt to change his train of thought was better than doing nothing, the Prince closed his eyes so that his view of LA had been replaced with total darkness. At first his mind seemed content to focus on his younger sister, but with enough determination, memories of Waterloo began to slowly trickle into his consciousness. Without glancing at a history book the exact date, but not the year, fell somewhere between May and July for him. This much he knew was certain, as he could still recall the beads of sweat that had been present on his forehead and the way his uniform clung to his body from the warm, humid weather. The night before there had been rain, and combined with his nerves of the upcoming battle, both had kept him awake until dawn. At least he had not been alone in this, as several of the other young men he had come to know over his time in the infantry had experienced similar dilemmas.

When they had been deployed to march towards Brussels road, an area near Waterloo, the high noon sun had been joined by a few sparse clouds hanging in the sky. Sebastian had been part of the right flank division designed to overwhelm one area of the opposing army in order to limit how effectively the enemy could maneuver. As with any strategy formulated by Napoleon Bonaparte, it was a clever plan set into motion by a dozen other battle tactics that only one as intelligent as their French Emperor could hope to achieve. His was a personality that inspired even the lowliest of persons to take up arms and fight, and though Sebastian had only met him once in person, seeing such a figurehead of absolute power was all a younger version of the Prince needed to know which direction he wanted to take in life. After all, he had been present ten years before in the massive crowd of people to cheer Napoleon on at his inauguration of becoming Emperor, so as soon as he was capable, LaCroix wasted no time enlisting in his role model's army.

Yet the Battle of Waterloo made him want to regret this decision at first, as though the fight had not started out as a disaster, it quickly became that by the end of the day. Sebastian and his comrades had been taking covering behind a makeshift barricade of sorts, Charleville muskets in their arms, and dirt covering their faces. The aroma of rendered flesh and gunpowder polluted the air, while the sounds that reached LaCroix's ears were of deafening canons being launched, echoing gunshots, the clanging of steel swords, and the agonizing screams of his fellow soldiers scattered across the battlefield. In return the once blue sky had been tainted with billowing columns of smoke, not only from the many weapons being constantly fired, but because a few of the surrounding structures had been shelled and set fire as per the orders of their Emperor. It made breathing insanely difficult, and even more so when one's lungs were already being used at peak capacity.

All day long Napoleon's mobile forces had been launching assault after assault on the British, but for the young Prince, their efforts seemed comparable to an ocean trying to wash away a mountain. Both armies were vast in both number and strength, but when it came down to it, the enemy had a few tactical advantages that the French did not. When the sun had begun to move toward a position that signaled evening then, that was when it really seemed like all of their attacks had been for naught. The Prussians had arrived in such great numbers to assist the British, that when Sebastian had observed their arrival his resolve failed him. He would never admit it to anyone, but such a sight had almost caused him to pathetically flee the field like a complete coward. It had been a moment that had tested him right down to his core being, but for all the inner shouting his instincts had unleashed upon him, he ignored them. He remained when several of those around him ran for the hills. He kept going when his closet friend had been blown apart by a canon. He fought on even after he had been shot in the leg, and he stayed to command those under him when their superior officer residing over their unit had been killed.

The truth was that Sebastian LaCroix had become something else that day. To him it was the defining moment in his history in which a leader had emerged from impossible odds. He alone had taken charge of the situation despite his trepidations, and the rush of adrenaline he felt from doing so not only came from fighting for his life, but the small amount of addicting power he had been granted. In the end though they had still been outnumbered, and despite his best efforts he wound up bloodied on the battlefield gasping for breath and waiting for death to claim him like everyone else. Yet the young Prince had refused to give up. He had clawed his way past his fallen comrades, ignoring their pleas for help and coating himself in layers of filth as he crawled onward to find assistance. This of course, ultimately led to the official transformation of a foot solider turned leader through his initiation into the Ventrue clan.

Now any self-respectable Ventrue would have left Sebastian to his fate, especially if next to nothing was known about him. Embracing random military personnel would be heavily frowned upon by the blue blood clan, but for some reason that was still a mystery to the Prince, his sire had decided to show mercy by doing exactly that. It was one of the few compassionate moments he would ever share with his Belgium sire, but like every seemingly innocent action, he would soon learn the hard way that there was often a cruel intention behind each one. Therefore, it would be accurate for someone to arrive at the conclusion that he had learned from the best.

Reopening his eyes, LaCroix exhaled deeply. He had come a long way since his embrace, and yet still he struggled. There was always something left for him to do, some war to be waged or some Elder to be reassured like he was coddling a child. It was tiring and tedious work, but the possibility of success, no matter how slim, was what motivated him to move forward. There was no guarantee that crawling past the corpses of his comrades near Waterloo would result in aid, but he did it anyway. There was no guarantee he would be able to push the Anarchs out of LA or eliminate the Sabbat threat, but he fought to do so anyway. If he failed, well then the most he could hope for was that his image might be remembered as the lone man who strived for order in an unruly world. It was this idea that had him relating even more so to the late Napoleon, as it was he who said that there was no such thing as immortality, but the memory that is left in the minds of men.

As a Kindred, this quote from the dethroned Emperor was deeply intertwined with the Prince's own set of beliefs. He had heard stories of vampires who had slept in a state of torpor for centuries before emerging (if they ever did), thus effectively achieving some form of immortality. Such a method of living forever was not very appealing to LaCroix however, as ignoring the problems of the world did not seem like an existence worth living. Since day one of his embrace he had been destined to lead, and lead he would as spending an eternity underground was a coward's method of trying to avoid the final death. For the most part he believed that death was often inevitable, even for Kindred, so the best way of combating that eventual possibility was to plan ahead. For many this meant finding a progeny to carry on a vampire's legacy, but LaCroix had yet to encounter someone who would be worthy enough to be his childe.

And thus his mind was suddenly brought back to the image of his sister. The idea of not one, but two LaCroix siblings ruling jointly over a city like LA brought a small smile to his face. The two of them had been like peas in a pod, and it was clear that even from a young age that she would have done well in the Ventrue clan. After all, it was she who had been the one mostly running the show and manipulating her brother to do what she wanted. Sometimes it was enough to make him wonder if he would have emerged the same person had it not been for her death, but such contemplations were useless. They irritated him too, as he had gone through all the trouble of focusing on his time spent as a soldier to distract himself from them. Obviously there had to be some reason for why he kept coming back to the topic, but what? Before he could think further on this, a knock came from his door and tore him from his thoughts. At first LaCroix said nothing in the hopes that if it were a mediocre issue then he could simply ignore it, and if it were not then he would realize it was truly important. Yet when a voice sounded on the other end, this told him that it was neither.

"I know you requested not to be interrupted, sir, but I have your evening meal," Katrina announced, the sound of a door slowly opening behind him.

"Did I give permission for you to enter?" LaCroix returned flatly, not bothering to face her.

"I thou-"

"Did I give you permission to enter?" the Ventrue repeated with annoyance.

"No, sir." There was silence now between the two before the Prince finally decided to turn around. When he did he saw his secretary holding a silver tray with a single wine glass of blood atop it; her eyes were glued to the ground.

"Leave it on the desk," he instructed, pointing a single finger towards the piece of furniture. Doing as she was told, the Toreador quickly crossed the room, and placed the tray on the desk, her heels muffled by the rug. Instead of leaving like she should have though, she cleared her throat to grab his attention. Sighing, LaCroix moved to respond. "Was there something else, Miss Thornton?"

"I…yes sir. There was," Katrina nervously responded, shifting her feet slightly, "I find myself worried for you."

"Why?" the Prince questioned, a single eyebrow raised.

"If I may speak plainly…?" she requested, to which her superior nodded, "Well sir, you've been neglecting to feed on a nightly basis."

"What of it?" he demanded, unable to hide how defensive he sounded. It was true that he hadn't been nourishing himself well enough as of late, but he had already arrived at the conclusion that Valeska's blood had spoiled the already picky Ventrue, something he wasn't exactly anxious to confess.

"Oh I meant no offense, my Prince!" the Toreador quickly reassured, "But I noticed a connection between your eating habits and…well…"

"And what?" Prince LA snapped; he had no patience for whatever game it was she was playing.

"And the arrival of Miss Latimer, sir." Again a moment of silence drifted between the two as the Ventrue eyed his secretary. Even to an amateur it was obvious that she was anxious, but the way in which he was practically glaring at her with narrowed eyes probably did not help the situation. There was something else present in her body language though. Something subtle he had seen before countless times from her, but was not easily recognized to the untrained eye. It was jealously.

"Are you implying something, Miss Thornton?" the Ventrue vampire inquired, his tone threatening while his eyes had nearly narrowed to slits. This action alone would be enough to intimidate anyone, but even when he glared down his nose at his secretary she actually met his gaze with eyes absent of fear. It was a sign of confidence, and had it been anyone else he might have said he was being challenged.

"If I may be so bold, sir…yes," Katrina affirmed, "I would never question you or your authority my Prince, but ever since Miss Latimer has arrived there have been…changes in yourself. You rarely feed anymore, you're more easily agitated, and your usual efficiency levels seem to sink after each encounter with your ghoul….it makes me think she's a liability." LaCroix pursed his lips and literally bit his tongue to keep from angrily lashing out at his secretary. Normally he wouldn't hold back, but in this instance her words held a degree of truth to them. He knew it, and she knew it, but it was not something he would admit to even if his life was on the line. Valeska did hold a certain sway over him that he could not yet determine why, but that was a topic to be contemplated at a future time, not now.

Focusing on what to say to his secretary then, he knew that yelling at her would have just reassured her belief. He was not entirely sure of why he should care when Katrina would be dead by dawn tomorrow anyway, but he did not need to complicate things by alerting her to that. For as far as she was concerned, the simple idea that his position was demanding would be enough to throw her off track.

"Did you ever stop to think that perhaps commanding an entire city is not as simple as it looks?" Prince LA began, his hands behind his back as he walked towards his desk. His voice was calm, almost tranquil, but for those who knew him well enough, this was more of a warning sign that actual forgiveness. Judging by Katrina's face, she was well aware that she was treading in dangerous territory.

"Well yes, and I see you suffering each night bu-"

"And did you ever wonder that maybe constantly fighting against both the Sabbat _and_ the Anarchs is quite tiring?" Reaching over, he picked up his wine glass and swirled the dark liquid within it. At the moment he wasn't exactly hungry, and even less so when his meal did not appear very appetizing to him in the first place. Yet he had an image to maintain, and proving to his secretary that his eating habits had not changed as drastically as she thought was all that mattered to him at the moment. Tipping the glass back, he let the blood spill into his mouth. From the moment the first drop hit his tongue it was bitter, but rather than spit it out in disgust, he swallowed it and kept his facial expression blank.

"My Prince, I have been with you for years now and I have seen every shade of color you have to offer. I've seen you livid with anger, ecstatic with joy, and exasperated with frustration, but this is different," the Toreador explained, taking a step towards him. "You're hurting inside, and I can't help but believe that Valeska is the source of your pain." At this the Prince couldn't stop himself from slamming his glass down, cracking it right through the center in the process and causing Katrina to jump in surprise.

A sharp feeling came from his hand afterward, and glancing downwards he saw a large shard of glass sticking out of his palm. Rather than yell at his secretary, he abstained once again and pulled the thin piece from his skin. The wound closed quickly as was the norm, but upon viewing his angry reflection in the shard he was quickly reminded of his mother losing her temper and shattering her wine bottle against the wall. Naturally as the woman was his mother, he found himself picturing a part of her within himself, but he had never imaged he would have become the part of her he hated the most.

"Sir…are you alright?" the Toreador enquired, her voice that sounded distant pulling his attention away from the piece of glass. Looking up he saw his secretary had taken several steps forward to the point where she was within arm's distance of him. Her face was full of concern, but he didn't like it one bit. Her duties were many, but not once had it ever been specified that she was meant to provide emotional support that he neither wanted nor needed from her.

"I am fine. Any correlation between my behavior and Miss Latimer's presence is merely coincidental, and I suggest you remember that," LaCroix replied, his voice sounding oddly foreign to himself. Walking around his desk, the Prince seated himself in front of it with his hands folded neatly upon it, an action meant to retain some form of civility and independence. "Now leave, and take the tray with you."

"But…" Katrina murmured, taking a half step towards him.

"Out!" he snapped angrily, unable to hold back his irritation any further. Nodding quickly, his secretary moved forward to take the tray and leave his office. It almost seemed she was going to do this without saying so as much as a 'yes sir,' but before exiting she turned her head momentarily to address him.

"You may be Kindred, my Prince, but even the coldest of dead hearts can learn how to beat once more if they choose to let another in. If you won't accept my aid, then I do hope that you will accept hers." Before LaCroix even had the chance to respond to this ridiculous statement of hers, she gently but quickly closed the door. For a moment after that, he did nothing but sit there trying to decipher the Toreador's poetic nonsense. That's exactly what it was too, nonsense that irritated him further and made him want to throw subtlety to the wind by executing Miss Thornton right then and there. He had originally thought that his theory of her having feelings of affection for him was outrageous, but the past few minutes of evidence had him revisiting it for the sake of making sense of her words. Clearly she had wanted to assist him, and clearly he did not wish to accept her help, but who then was she referring to when she said 'I hope that you will accept hers?' Then, like a puzzle piece being fit into place it suddenly all made sense.

Of course his secretary had been implying Valeska, but that wasn't what he had been made to realize. It was Katrina's last sentence that hinted at the fact that she had been listening in on his earlier conversation with the ghoul, and it was this same discussion that he needed reminding of. The reason for why he had been unable to dismiss his sister's memory so quickly was suddenly so clear to him, as it was in no small part due to Miss Latimer. It was she who had suggested that he stop burying himself in his work, but only now did he comprehend that this idea had been silently driving his thoughts since he had arisen several hours ago. By trying so hard to forget the almost intimate moment he had shared with Valeska, he had left his mind wide open to be influenced by the suggestion she had made. That was why he had not been able to do his work, and that was why every thought seemed to drift back to his history.

Yet this realization did not make him any better about his recent inabilities, as it was quite unnerving that such a simple statement had influenced his thoughts as powerfully as it had. To think that a ghoul of all creatures had managed to manipulate him was embarrassing, but also very confusing to him. He was sure that Valeska's actions had not been purposefully malicious or he would have also been beyond infuriated, so at that moment he had to wonder what had allowed her to affect him so heavily. Was it due to her blood? This possibility terrified him right down to his center, but it seemed so unlikely. He had tasted Kindred vitae before and had naturally been emotionally influenced because of it, but the sensation of drinking his ghoul's blood was different. Its flavor may have been nearly as great as that of a vampire's, but there was no long lasting effect that made the Prince want to serve her as how it had been with his sire. On the contrary, the more he fed from Valeska, the more he wanted to control her. Then of course there were the hallucinations his occasional feedings from her brought, but that was an entirely different mystery to be solved at a later time.

As far as ghouls went, Valeska was surprisingly capable as well as intelligent for one her age. For the most part she seemed able to hold her ground in a variety of different situations too, but other that though he couldn't think of much else that could have influenced him. Perhaps though, that was because he was purposefully forgetting something. Jogging his memory back to earlier that morning, he recalled how sincere Valeska had actually been when LaCroix had been obviously distressed. Like Katrina, she had appeared legitimately concerned all while offering assistance should he need it. Unlike Katrina however, his ghoul had been more or less aware of what was causing her master to be in emotional agony. The exact details remained foreign to her as they should, but rather than use what she knew to manipulate him, she had put herself at a substantial amount of risk by challenging him. Any other person would have been punished, something that was clearly been shown through his decision to assassinate his secretary, but not with Valeska. Why? What made her so special that she could escape his wrath? And why did he feel so comfortable discussing his past with her?

Cursing silently, LaCroix pushed back from his desk and returned to his window. Rather than stand comfortably with his hands behind his back though, he placed one arm above his head so that both were directly against the glass, while his other hand was placed in his suit's pant pocket. It was a lazy man's position, or one that was for the incredibly frustrated, but for the Prince it would do for now. Scanning the ground below, his superior eyesight was just able to make out a few late night stragglers. A homeless man here, a prostitute there, but the drudges of society were also joined by what looked to be a couple holding hands and hailing a cab. While they waited, the man took to running a single finger down his partner's cheek before pulling her into a passionate kiss. Normally human affection had no effect on him other than perhaps the rolling of his blue eyes, but not tonight. For some reason he found himself thinking of Valeska in this scenario, which had him torn between enjoying this thought and being disgusted by it.

In fact that was what most of his interactions seemed to be like with his ghoul, an inner battle between two separate emotions that conflicted as complete opposites. Take for instance when he had made the mistake of shaking her awake earlier. He had been annoyed at her overly emotional reaction, but at the same time it had made him want to comfort her too. Witnessing her fall to pieces in his arms though was all he needed to abandon this usual conflict, as all he had desired to do at that moment was to pull her even closer. He had been at such a loss with this sudden onslaught of emotions too, that when Valeska had easily forgiven him for frenzying, he had been beyond confused. She had almost died on him and her primary concern had been for _his_ life? Of course the first thing that came to mind was that she was lying, but he soon realized this wasn't the case. Somehow she actually cared for him, and though it had probably been inspired by their blood bond, he still found himself enjoying her affections. Yet when she made a move to get closer to him, he tensed up. It seemed to occur instinctively too, and only when she stopped him from leaving did he realize he was denying himself what he really wanted: her.

It wasn't just her blood he wanted anymore, but her body too that he wanted to have submit to his every demand. He wanted to feed from the prominent artery in her inner thigh. He wanted to run his tongue along the most private areas of her body. He wanted to hear her scream his name as he sunk his teeth into her neck at the moment of her peak desire. However, when his mind had been invaded by these thoughts he panicked, as most Kindred often deemed such flings with kine as disgusting. His desires of her placed his reputation directly at stake, and because of that, he hated her for it. Nothing would have made him happier than if he had never met the woman in the first place, but sadly he had. He may have wanted her gone, dead even, but it had still taken all of his control not to ravish her when she practically invited him into her bed. Part of that had probably been his fault for unintentionally misleading her, but her intention was as clear as the desire that had been present in her eyes.

But he knew it would have been wrong of him to take advantage of her in that moment. She had been through so much trauma during the last few weeks, and though he could have made the argument that he had frenzied on her because her blood had made it near impossible for him to eat normally, the fault ultimately lay with him for his lack of control. Valeska had never asked to be used as a hostage by the Sabbat the night she became a ghoul, and frankly she had never requested to be his servant either. He had taken the young woman away from the life she had known and tossed her into a world of darkness almost against her will, so the least he could do was treat her with dignity.

This too was something he despised about Valeska, as with anyone else he would have just done the deed and left after his appetite was sated. Sex for vampires was not nearly as impossible as some made it out to sound, nor was it as enjoyable as it was for mortals. This was something he had learned during his first half century before he let his questionable habits fall to the wayside. Back then it seemed almost natural for his desires to go hand in hand with feeding, though he had soon realized it was the power of luring in another that pleased him so greatly, not the sex. There was something about the hunt in his beginning years as a Ventrue that excited him, and what greater pleasure was there then to have your prey surrendering to your will? As he aged though, the sexual thrill just hadn't been there anymore. This could have been for any number of reasons, such as the growing amount of authority he had that had forced him to be wary of his feeding habits, the decrease in hormonal drive that came with an older age, or even because he had grown tired of doing the same thing every few nights. Whatever it actually was, he had never thought he would be reawakened to such simple pleasures ever again, and least of all with someone like Valeska. It was true he had shared a unique sort of romance with his first ghoul, but after her death he had seemed more than content to lock that part of himself away. He was not immune to the female charm, but he was certainly well protected by it.

Nevertheless, it seemed that his current ghoul was changing that somehow and he still couldn't figure out why. If he had been a Toreador or a Brujah these feelings would have made sense, but he wasn't. He was a Ventrue Prince who had more important things to contend with than that of a woman. Part of him wanted to reason that if he just got these desires out of his system by sleeping with her, then perhaps the tension between the two would vanish and he would no longer be influenced by her words. LaCroix would achieve what he wanted, and Valeska who was obviously infatuated with him by their blood bond would probably have been more than happy to serve him. However, once again he found so many problems with this solution that he wasn't even sure of where to start.

First and foremost was that if knowledge of their intimate encounter ever got out, the results would have been devastating to Prince LA. His reputation as a Ventrue would be forever tarnished with the idea that he let carnal pleasures take precedence over his duties as a leader. He had come too far now to let something like that destroy him, and that was if such an act would even satisfy him. What if sex with Valeska became as addicting as tasting her blood? He had no doubt that something like that would not be handled well by a man who found close relationships to be a hindrance. After all, even something as simple as sex entailed letting someone get close to him, which in his eyes was the equivalence of a disaster waiting to happen. Every time he bothered to put the energy into attempting to care for another, they either died or stabbed him in the back. It just wasn't worth it to him to expend such efforts, so again the logical thing to do would be to continue keeping his relationship with Valeska strictly professional. …If only it was that simple.

Since the beginning, keeping his distance from Miss Latimer had been his plan due to his last experience with a ghoul. Yet as he had determined recently, he had failed miserably with this. He had gone out of the way to threaten her landlord to spare her the trouble of harassment, he been so worried when he thought he had killed her, and he had practically lost it when he read the report that she had been seen with Nines Rodriguez. It wasn't just thoughts of betrayal that swarmed his paranoid mind either, but jealously. He had felt this with her before with seemingly benign things, but the idea that his enemy had possibly had his hands on _his_ ghoul angered him so badly that he was sure that this was what had sparked the beginning of his foul mood for the evening.

Fortunately he had been able to remain calm enough to ask Valeska herself as to what exactly had happened. Rather than lie as he expected she might, she had immediately come clean with a confession that she had almost spent the night with a man whose true identity apparently remained a mystery to her. She honestly didn't seem to understand why he had been asking her so many questions either, so when he finally revealed that her partner had been Mr. Rodriguez her shock had certainly been genuine enough. It was nothing next to the relief he felt though when he was informed that the two had not had intercourse, and even more importantly that he had not tasted her blood. That was of course not to say that she had savored his vitae, but from the sounds of it she had been ignorant of the fact that he had even been a vampire in the first place.

Still, for someone who had proven her intelligence time and time again to the Prince, something seemed off to him. Naturally he associated this feeling with that of the Anarch leader, as this bold move could not have been just a coincidence. Valeska was still relatively new to the world of Kindred that any ignorance on her part, while irritating, could be forgiven at this point in time. Mr. Rodriguez on the other hand was the type who knew how to exploit anything of LaCroix's that might be used against him, no matter how small that thing might be. Had it not been in such a time period of strife, this trait of the Brujah's might have been considered childish. However, seeing as how there was practically a war waiting to happen under the surface of the city, the ex-Baron's actions were anything but immature. They were clever, and for someone like LaCroix they had grown to be increasingly annoying for him to deal with.

Having targeted his ghoul then was an interesting tactic to use. It was nothing that could harm the Ventrue vampire directly, but that wasn't necessarily the point. To Sebastian it sounded more like he was being sent a message by the Anarchs that even those bonded to him could be manipulated, and that was what had him worried. The move was a sneaky one that wouldn't have immediate results, but acknowledging that was giving credit to his enemies that they were more than just a band of rebels that resorted to violence to get what they wanted. It was so surprising to him too, as it was akin to the Sabbat using subtlety to accomplish their goals rather than straight up demolishing a Camarilla structure to prove their beast like tendencies.

Whatever the Prince's feelings on the matter were, Nines was proving to be even more of a threat as an enemy than he had originally introduced himself to be. Often it was thought that establishing someone as their enemy meant giving them the respect of being placed in such a category. This ideology stemmed from the idea that a person is only as good as who they label their adversaries to be, so that the only way to appreciate yourself was to do the same for them. However, for Sebastian this was simply not the case. He was certainly aware of how great a danger the Anarchs could be if they got out of hand, but it was not something he would ever directly acknowledge to the public. Morale was a powerful tool after all and one that could be used to inspire allies or manipulate enemies in one swift movement. Yet another philosophy Sebastian seemed to share with Napoleon who had once stated that the morale is to the physical as three is to one.

Therefore, LaCroix would continue to let the public think that the Anarchs were nothing more than a group of childish rebels sulking in the former image of their previous lives. As a Prince though, he could not join the masses with this belief. Mr. Rodriguez's encounter with Valeska had been intentional, and though he was sure it was meant to be seen a message of control, there was something else included in the equation as well. Since Valeska was his ghoul, she belonged to him and only him, but for Nines this had been the perfect opportunity for him to insult the Prince's authority. The Anarch leader had done similar things to him in the past, but these insolent occurrences had been increasing in frequency as of late. Combined with the fact that several loyal Camarilla soldiers had joined the Anarchs in the last year alone and it was obvious to him that something needed to be done soon in regards to their presumed leader. The ex-Baron might not have been the one directly responsible for recruiting so many vampires, but for their cause he was a symbol, and like with all important figureheads, dealing with them required the utmost tact possible.

On the one hand if the Prince were to flat out execute Nines then he would become a martyr, or worse yet, the cause for a new war which seemed to be just waiting for the right spark to begin. However, if he sat by and did nothing then he might find himself overwhelmed by their sheer numbers in another year's time. Killing him was absolutely necessary, but even an accidental death might be viewed as an act made by the Camarilla. This was something he knew by heart, as the first assassination attempt on the Brujah's life had resulted in exactly this. Rodriguez was intelligent enough to know how to manipulate the system, so therefore the only way to destroy him without directly killing him was to sully his reputation. That alone would be a difficult task, but he had made the right step in sparing the Toreador fledgling's life. Granted, it had been Nines whose objection had forced the Prince's hand, but he had still managed to make the Brujah look foolish in the process. What else could he do then to chip away at the grand image the ex-Baron had made himself into?

Sadly, not very much. For an Anarch he was surprisingly careful when it came to maintaining self-control, and despite his distaste for the Masquerade he had yet to break it, purposefully or accidentally. He was well guarded when it came to giving out information too, as every mole the Prince had placed to be on the inside of the Anarch organization was quickly discovered. These Kindred rarely came back in the same way they had originally set out as, so it made spy work nearly impossible. The Nosferatu were at least skilled in establishing key details, but because of the seemingly random pattern of chaos the Anarchs followed and how quickly they worked, this information was usually not discovered until after said event had taken place. One option he had been toying with then was the idea of using Valeska to gather evidence, as she was both new enough to be viewed as oblivious, and her personality was often as informal as theirs were.

In a way though, such a notion was practically like throwing her to the wolves. If she was discovered then she would surely be injured beyond what could easily be repaired, and her life would be in danger if such a thing were to happen. Her death would solve a majority of his emotional problems, but was he really ready to make such a decision? No, he wasn't, but that wasn't because of the feelings he seemed to have for her either. At this point in time, no matter how unlikely, it was possible that Valeska had aligned herself with the Anarch cause. His blood along with the contract she had signed concerning her grandmother was supposed to hold her loyalties firmly in place, but blackmail occasionally had the bad habit of backfiring on the offender. Threatening her only living relative's life was bound to gain him a considerable degree of control over his ghoul's life, but it also might have inspired a hatred for him that was being disguised by the false affections she showered him with.

However, if that had been the case she wouldn't have bothered to save his life and she certainly wouldn't have literally jumped in the way of gunfire to shield his failing body. She could have anticipated that he would think such things, but he doubted it. Even if the death of the Prince meant that she could no longer gain inside information on the Camarilla as easily, she was still too new to understand vampire politics. That of course might have made her an easier target to manipulate, but the only report he had received about her interactions with the Anarchs came the same night as the trial. That was it, unless she was being contacted in her apartment that she seemed to spend most of her time in. Still, he felt no shame in establishing this first hand by giving her the gift of a cellphone that he could easily track. Reports could be falsified, but technology he had come to realize was quite useful when it decided to work for him. This wouldn't tell him whether or not she was having nightly visitors, but it would allow him to determine where she was at all times.

Venturing towards his desk, Prince LA reached into one of its drawers to pull forth a laptop. He was interested to discover whether or not his ghoul had actually returned to her apartment when he had ordered her to do so, for despite their bond she had disobeyed his last orders to remain at home in order to heal up. Several minutes later, he had the device opened to the respective program designed to allow him to track his ghoul's whereabouts. Frankly the interface seemed quite barbaric to him, but when you're trying to stay on top of the latest technology, this was normal. A few clicks later, and LaCroix was staring at a screen that looked similar to that of a normal map, but with a red blinking dot as to where Valeska was. At first glance her location made it seem like she was in her apartment, but upon zooming in closer he discovered that while she was close to her apartment, she was not actually in it. She was in fact, at the Tremere Chantry.

For a moment Sebastian stared dumbfounded at the screen, trying to determine why she was there. As far as he knew she had made no contact with the Tremere, other than the one time at Grout's dinner party. There had been a few short minutes in which the Regent had spoken with Valeska in private, but surely that was not enough time for him to gain control over her. Then again, this was the clan of blood mages whose powerful abilities were all but set in stone. Anything was possible with them, but he had to wonder what Strauss's interest was in such an insignificant pawn. Valeska was capable and her blood was phenomenal, but these things remained a mystery to everyone except LaCroix. Something definitely wasn't right here, and it had him more than a little worried. Had she been lured in for a set of gruesome experiments? Had the conversation shared at Grout's mansion been riddled with betrayal? He had no idea, but whatever it was he was going to find out one way or another.

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**Author's Note:** So yes, Sebastian is going through some issues in his life. As a Prince I always imagined him to be so duty focused, but everyone, even vampires, have personal issues that pop up every once in a while. I might have laid down the Napoleon thing a bit too much, but unfortunately I've gotten to the point that where if I think of LaCroix I think of Napoleon and vice versa. Damn video games warping my sense of historical figures… I do hope that my interpretation of him so far is still in character though, despite his inclinations towards Valeska. I know I remained a bit vague with the email he sent to Valeska too, but more or less there should be enough there to figure it out. The next chapter will probably be through Remy's POV as it shows his journey and interaction with certain characters. I know he's a bit of an ass so far, but I promise that he will get better. His will be a humbling journey, and one that plays a very important part in the story obviously. To sum this up, please leave a review if you can! I love hearing what I'm doing well with or on the flipside, what I really fail with. I would really appreciate that, and I thank those who have already done so in the past or are continuing to do so. Until next time! =)


	42. Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Author's Notes:** When my friends tend to tease me about being cursed, I usually laugh along with the thought that they are just kidding. This last week though has made me think that I really am cursed. I got food poisoning, our electric company shut off my neighbor's hoods power for a few days despite it being 110+ degrees outside, and I had a pet pass away before those two events occurred. No idea why these sort of things keep happening to me, but I really appreciate those who have been supportive in regards to my delays. I just figured I would explain why it happened this time around. Anyway, this chapter is pretty short compared to some of my more recent chapters, but that's mostly because there's no reason to make it long. It's through Remy's POV, so enjoy!

**Special Thanks:** Thank you to everyone. Yep that's right, this is a general shout out to anyone who has read, reviewed, favorite'd, or followed my story or me as an author. Your support keeps me going when I want to give up, so thank you! More specific to the last chapter I want to thank Deprivation for following my story, and to the reviewers who are Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, Leni, AluVkisser, and Wollerosekaufn.

**Responses: **To Sasha: Oh Katrina is very jealous of Valeska, but not to the point where she's going to kill anyone. LaCroix is naturally a bit cautious with those he keeps around him, but I don't think he realizes that it's not in his secretary's nature to harm anyone. By the way, there's no need to repeat several parts of your review. Have no fear that I am reading your response; I just can't respond to every single part.

To Leni: No worries, your English is perfectly fine for me to understand. =) My intentions with this story is to stick with the ValxLaCroix relationship, mostly because the Nines thing was quite literally a fluke. I was also testing the waters to see how the community would react to a more intimate scene in which I have no experience, so hopefully you will still enjoy my story even if it doesn't have a romance with Nines.

To AluVkisser: Ahh, ok that makes more sense now! Thanks for clarifying that. With Sebastian's character, it's pretty clear he has a thing for power. Fantasies of control probably go hand in hand with this, so dominating someone during sex is something I can easily see coming from him. During his first few decades he was amused doing this, but as an elder vampire these feelings have been muted (at least in my story). That's why he's so confused with Val.

To Wollerosekaufn: Thank you very much! I'm glad you think my story deserves a reading, and greetings from America! ^_^

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**Chapter 41 Something Wicked This Way Comes**

Remy Beaumont collapsed on the makeshift bed before him. It wasn't his own, but when you're trapped in a haunted house that seems content to throw things at you every which way you turn…well there aren't many options left for a person. The Toreador, or that was what others were calling him nowadays, had entered the Ocean House Hotel not one hour ago after he realized that things were starting to feel a little toasty outside. Like an idiot he hadn't checked his watch before he set out, but that was mostly because he figured he had more than enough time to finish the job Therese had given him. That kind of thinking was what probably got a lot of young vampires killed though, as he had gotten lost not once, but twice in the vast sewer system below Santa Monica. Thus, he had completely lost track of time all while ruining his designer shoes in the process. The night had already been awful enough as is, but it was made worse when he emerged from the tunnels to witness the beginning signs of a sunrise. This was only his second night as a vampire, but he was quickly learning that for creatures that were supposed to be immortal, there sure were a lot of ways for them to die.

Rushing like a madman to open the front door hadn't been very fun for Remy either, as he had fallen face first into a mound of dirt during his attempt to scramble uphill. Now his shoes AND his clothes were ruined, not to even mention that there was so much grime covering his face that he had barely been able to see. Luckily he had managed to recover quickly enough, but for some reason he thought that the sewer gate keys would work on the hotel's front doors too. Adrenaline had always had a bad habit of making him scatterbrained, but that excuse didn't make him feel any better about himself when his ego had already been crushed so badly earlier by both Valeska and Therese. Sure he was cocky, but in a way that was his defense mechanism.

Flirting with women had a way of making him feel better about himself, because frankly he hadn't really accomplished much else in his life that he could be proud of. His artistic endeavors made him who he was right down to his very soul, but the past few years of failure made it so society would only see him as just that, a failure. You were either successful in this short lifetime or you weren't, so becoming a vampire had excited him. It would be the highlight to his life, or well unlife if you wanted to get technical about it, because now he would have the rest of eternity to make a name for himself. Yet so far being a vampire was not all it was cracked out to be. He was supposed to be this kickass creature of the night, shrouded in mystery and shadow as he seduced women in order to feed from their virgin blood. Instead he had become this sickly pale slave to the higher ups as he was forced to obey a million rules that were still so vague to him.

Take for instance the rule that said he wasn't allowed to tell anyone he was a vampire. That right there practically took all the fun out of being a blood sucker! What if he found his soul mate and wanted to be with her forever? According to the Carmella or whatever it was called, he wouldn't be allowed to tell her what he was, let alone transform her into a vampire. He had no idea how to turn someone anyway, but if he did and he went through with it, then he wouldn't just get a simple slap on the wrist as punishment. Oh no, he would be outright _killed_ just like Isabella.

Her death, which had already been very traumatizing for him to witness, continued to play through his mind because he was still having difficulty with remembering what exactly had happened. One minute she had been there spitting in Prince Blondie's face (who seemed like he deserved it anyway), and the next her head was bouncing down the stage as her body simply went poof. The most beautiful woman Remy had ever come to know, and now she would serve as the first person he had ever seen killed. Additionally it was his first time seeing a deceased person's body, so he had been pretty shocked to say the least. Of course there hadn't really been a dead body lying center stage, just a pile of ashes, but that wasn't really the point. Isabella and himself could have traveled the world together as vampire lovers, but it seemed he would have to wait even longer to find that one perfect woman.

Not that he had much time to contemplate that depressing though after said event anyway, because no sooner had he been freed by Prince Blondie was he being thrown out of the frying pan and into the fire. There were more dead bodies to see, more violence to contend with, and two more virgin moments for him: murder and being shot. Now to be fair, the people he had been forced to kill had ended up dead in the name of self-defense. It was common knowledge that Remy absolutely despised violence of any kind, and as such he did everything in his power to sneak past those that stood in his way. Despite his best efforts though, he had still wound up with blood on his hands by the end of the night. Having survived that little skirmish, all Remy could think to do now was thank the lord that Jack had been there. That scraggily bearded man may have looked, smelled, and dressed like a hobo, but even with those rough edges he had still been so helpful in teaching him the basics of being a vampire. Getting shot had hurt like a bitch, but it would have been a lot worse if Jack hadn't been there to calm the hysterical Toreador who thought he had been dying.

So his first night may have been a bit embarrassing, but chances were that his second night couldn't have been nearly as bad, right? Nope, and never in his entire life had he been so wrong. He may not have had to deal with several gaping bullet holes, but his failure in a variety of social situations made this night just as awful as the previous one. First had been his meeting with Mercurio, which had been so pity inducing that he had no choice but to ignore his orders to get the Astrolite and instead get something to help the poor guy out. Any moron would have been able to tell by the amount of blood lost that the ghoul was probably in a lot of pain, something that was universal to just about everyone and way more important than getting back a bunch of explosives.

A few smooth words later with the front desk nurse in the hospital and he managed to not only swipe some morphine for Mercurio, but save a young woman's life too. In between her moans of pain he hadn't been able to catch her name, but because the selfish doctor wouldn't help her, Remy decided to do it for him. At first he wasn't sure his attempt would work, but some blubbering ghoul named Knox promised him that vampire blood could heal other people if they drank it. Luckily that wasn't just some wild rumor, as he had watched in amazement as the young woman's wounds healed within minutes. She was so beautiful and delicate, like a blood soaked angel that had fallen from heaven. When her groggy gaze met his he was sure his heart would have stopped if it was still beating, but he kept his cool by forcing out a lie about what he had done. Breaking the Masquerade and being beheaded would have royally sucked, so he had left the sleeping beauty to her rest in the hopes that they might someday be reunited. It was very unlikely to happen in a state as big as California, but perhaps if he were lucky enough his romantically poetic nature might be rewarded.

That had pretty much been the last pleasant event of the evening besides flirting with Jeanette, but even that had been shadowed by everything else he had been made to suffer. He had barely escaped getting his ass kicked by the Astrolite thugs he thought he could fool, but then on top of that he had lost the money he figured he had earned at this point. It had all been because of that uptight woman, Valeska, someone who he had learned the hard way wasn't just another pretty face. She wasn't drop dead gorgeous like Isabella or Jeanette, but she had still been attractive enough that he figured he might have been able to seduce her.

Instead she ended up humiliating him all while tricking him into giving back Mercurio's money. Remy hadn't been too upset that he lost the money, as it probably wasn't fair that he stole from Mercurio in the first place. However, he was jumping through hoop after hoop over here! He deserved some kind of reward for putting his life on the line, not having some of the more intimate details of his past exposed. At least Prince Blondie seemed filthy rich, which meant that he would probably be more generous when Remy got done doing all his dirty work. Maybe then he could go back to focusing on the more important things in life, like painting.

Until that happened though, he was stuck doing tedious work while being surrounded by female supernaturals that didn't really seem that interested in sex. Remy had been something of a movie fanatic at one point in his life, and horror movies specifically had always held a special appeal for him due to their usually…erotic turn of events. Vampire movies were some of his favorites too, because blood suckers were so often portrayed as sex gods. To him that made sense though, because when you're immortal you tend to have a lot of time on your hands to spend with the opposite sex. Yet apparently this too wasn't true when it came to vampires in real life.

Take for instance, Therese Voerman. Almost every single physical trait she had was as perfect as her younger sisters, if not better because she had a respectable sort of flair to her. At first glance, Jeanette just looked crazy. Her hair was wild, her makeup was over the top, and her clothes were beyond revealing. Therese on the other hand was the exact opposite of her younger sister, as her hair was in a neat bun, she wore professional, tailored clothing, and her pale face was decorated with makeup that looked so natural he might have made the mistake of saying she had none on. Even their eyes were completely different, with Jeanette's having two mismatched colors, and Therese possessing blue eyes that were hidden behind a pair of stylish glasses. So really, other than a few similar facial features, the two were so unalike that he might not have even guessed that they were related.

One thing specifically Therese had that Jeanette did not, was power. The older sister was practically oozing with it, and Remy only wished that she might use a bit of that authority on him in the bedroom. However all that power had turned her into a real bitch, as his ghoul pals hadn't been kidding when they said she would bite his head if he tried to flirt with her. Despite their warning he had of course tried it anyway; it was practically in his nature to do so. In return for his actions though, he was rewarded with a glare that almost felt like he was being impaled by miniature icicles. He felt so small in her presence when she did this, like an ant about to be squashed by her giant heel or burned alive with a magnifying glass. It was so rare someone was able to do that to him too, but around Therese Voerman he felt as insecure as a thirteen year old girl. By the time he was done speaking with her then, he more shrank away from the room than he did walk out, making it so Jeanette was definitely his favorite of the two sisters.

Now here he was, trapped in a haunted building until sunset because the ice queen wouldn't call off her feud unless she got an item to get rid of the 'scary' ghosts in her hotel. At first he had laughed when he was presented with this task. No really, he had flat out laughed at the idea that ghosts were somehow real now too. He may have enjoyed fictional horror movies, but by the end of the film he knew that none of it could or would be real. Investing time in the belief of paranormal creatures was a waste of energy to him, so if someone had told him vampires were real two nights ago he would have laughed in their face too. Obviously Therese hadn't liked it when he snickered at her ghost problem, but she would have been amused if she could see him now. He was holed up in the basement of her hotel, listening to the rain and thunder that had started up outside as he picked the pieces of glass out of his matted hair. That was what rushing through the front door to avoid the sun had rewarded him with, as he hadn't seen the falling chandelier until it was literally right on top of him.

After that he hadn't wanted to stick around, but he didn't really have a choice in the matter. It was either face the hotel under risk of further injury, or step out into the sun to see it rise one last time. To him the choice was an easy one to make, but the way his gut churned had him feeling incredibly uneasy. Something about the negative impression he got from the place had him thinking that spending the day sleeping down in the disgusting sewers just might have been worth it when compared to the hotel. He wouldn't have survived the run to the manhole cover though, and even if he could, it would have been really dumb if he risked his life out of superstition. Instead he just convinced himself that the fallen chandelier had simply been the result of its old design. According to the newspaper clipping he found, this place had been up and running several decades ago so faulty architecture made sense to him.

After that, his main concern was finding somewhere to sleep. Just like his first night as a vampire, he felt so physically drained of energy that he was sure he might just pass out. Why this was he had no idea as he hadn't exerted himself to the point where he would have been that tired. He had definitely fed enough and maybe even more than what was necessary from not knowing his limits, so it might have just been because he ate too much. A full stomach usually made him feel groggy, but his fatigue levels were still ridiculously high to make up for a sated appetite. Remy had wondered briefly before exploring if it was the sun was doing this to him. The curtains may have been thick enough to hide the young vampire from the sun's rays, but it was possible that just the act of it rising into the sky forced blood suckers everywhere to rest. He hoped not.

Wandering along the first floor hadn't really revealed anything to Remy that might be a bedroom, as every single one of the doors had been boarded up. He probably could have torn off the wooden boards if he really wanted to get inside one of the rooms, but he decided against it in order to conserve energy. In this instance, that basically meant restricting himself to walking and dodging objects being hurled in his direction. He wasn't very good at doing the latter though, which meant more pieces of glass or ceramic had been imbedded in his skin, hair, and clothing. More than once he was just able to make out the image of someone running from the corner of his eye, but each time he investigated he was lead to a dead end. It was really starting to piss him off too, because he was determined to believe that it was just some idiot kid hiding out in the hotel and playing a prank on him. That or it was just Therese messing with his head with some kind of weird vampire initiation, because everyone knew that there was no such thing as ghosts. Either way, when he finally caught whoever was messing with him there would be hell to pay.

Seeing as how all the downstairs rooms were locked, Remy had decided to head upstairs. However, right when he had spotted an open room and had been nearing the top of the second story, the floor gave out beneath him. He had fallen at least ten feet before he hit the ground, but other than rattle his nerves pretty badly, he hadn't suffered more than a few splinters of wood that tore open his pant leg. Feeling frustrated with the day's events, he blamed the old design of the hotel once again and trudged onward in near total darkness. He ignored the loud footsteps he heard above him; probably just that damn kid again. Then, when he saw the ghostly image of a woman running past him screaming and crying, he ignored this too. Not because he hadn't wanted to help her, but because when he turned the corner she was gone. At this point he was grasping at straws for why he was seeing and experiencing all these strange things, but eventually he settled on a sleepy mind. Better that than the alternative.

Eventually he came to be where he was now, a small, cold room that had no windows, and whose concrete walls matched that of the floor. He had found a small area behind two empty carts with wheels to rest behind, though there wasn't much on the floor except for some cardboard and more newspapers. This one seemed to focus on some guy that went insane and killed his family, but the words were too blurry for the exhausted Remy to finish reading. Having finished picking out the glass and ceramic pieces from his hair and clothing, the Toreador (who was lying on his side) brought his knees up to his chest in order to cover his frame with the old papers. He was in no way a short man, but his height was slightly less when compared to the average man. This made it so he was able to shelter the entirety of his body quite easily. Not exactly comfortable, but too tired to care, the young vampire closed his eyes. He had passed out in worse places in his past from partying too hard, so this wasn't anything. Later on when he woke up he would find a way back upstairs, but for now it was time to sleep.

Almost immediately after this thought he felt himself entering the beginning stages of sleep, but then something seemed to almost rip him out of this state. Not in the physical sense, but the psychological as the soft sobs of a woman filled the room. Every hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he jumped up when a particularly loud bit of thunder literally shook the building. One thing he had realized about being a vampire was the fact that his senses had been amplified, something he obviously wasn't used to yet as he was currently forced to cover his ears to shield them from the deafening boom. As soon as that noise faded though, the woman's crying returned in full force to disturb him yet again. It just didn't sound like a normal sound, as one second it was echoing from the hall and the next it was right behind him.

Whirling around and expecting to find someone standing there, he was met with nothing but a concrete wall. Without warning the small light bulb above him exploded, throwing him into utter darkness as the bits of glass fell into his hair. For Remy, this was the final straw. It hadn't been enough that he was exhausted from lack of sleep and being forced to sleep on a piece of cardboard like a bum. It hadn't been enough that he had ruined his wardrobe or was frustrated with this new life and everyone in it. But now, he was being targeted by ghosts who thought it would be funny to prove their existence by throwing glass back into his hair after he spent nearly half an hour trying to clean it. Well that was it. He was done with this.

Storming into the hallway, something hit the back of his head causing a few stars to fly into his vision. Instinctively he brought a hand to the base of his skull and ran two fingers down his neck to feel something wet. Bringing his hand back to his face he saw what he assumed it was: blood. Seething with fury even more so now, he looked down the hall to see if he could spot the ghost or ghosts if that turned out to be the case. He wasn't really sure what he would do if he found one, but right now he was too damn pissed to think clearly. For a few more minutes he stalked the maze of concrete walls in an attempt to track down the sobbing, but every time he neared the source it would disappear and reappear somewhere else. Feeling even more infuriated, but knowing that there wasn't much he could do, Remy returned to his 'room'. However, before entering it fully he turned around to address the ghost whose weeping had gotten even louder.

"JUST SHUT UP!" he screamed furiously, almost ready to tear his hair out in frustration, "You may be dead, but so am I! Just let me rest damn it!" At this, the ghost actually did fall silent which was surprising in of itself. However, the silence was almost as eerie as the actual crying for some reason.

"Help me…" someone or something suddenly whispered in Remy's ears. Jumping several feet in the air from the fear factor alone, he turned around to see not a soul. Sighing irritably, Remy returned his groggy gaze back to his front only to fall backwards in shock as the ghost had finally decided to reveal herself.

The exact age of the young woman was hard to determine, but from her general appearance it was clear that she had lived in a completely different time period than what Remy had grown up in. Her raven black hair went down a bit past her pale shoulders, her skin was as white as…well a ghost, and she wore a long white dress that was stained red all through her middle from what could only have been a most gruesome death. The most disturbing feature though was her face, which was completely covered in hair except for a single eye that was wide and unblinking. Other than stare down at him, she didn't do much else except hover about a foot off the ground.

"Uhm….h-h-hello?" Remy stammered, trying to swallow his fear the best he could.

"Help me…" she repeated softly in the same eerie tone. The Toreador slowly stood up from his fallen state, and put his hands in front of him; a sign that he wasn't hostile. The last thing he wanted was to be possessed or whatever it is that ghosts did in their free time.

"Yes, well I was sent here to help you, but I need sleep first," he explained slowly, trying to sound calm even when he obviously was not. The ghost neither spoke nor moved, making it so Remy wasn't sure what to do next. Extending his arm, he pointed into the small room he had been laying in only moments before. "I'm going to rest in there. Is that ok with you?"

Once again the spirit made no move to communicate, so the Toreador decided to test the waters by stepping into the room. As he did this, he made sure to keep his eyes on the young woman in case she became aggressive. Not that he would know what to do if she did attack him, but he was technically in her home, or at least the location in which she had died. Therefore it was only fair that he be respectful to someone who had undoubtedly been murdered in rage. Now standing fully in his temporary bedroom, the young vampire forced a small smile. This had been done mostly because of his nerves, but also as a means of establishing some kind of friendly understanding with the ghost.

"I vow to avenge you by freeing your soul from the pain you endure, spirit," Remy promised with a short nod. It was a bit over the top, but it was better than letting fear overcome his senses. He was but two steps away from literally shaking in his shoes, so he needed to keep his cool by doing something to reassure the woman that he wasn't there to harm her. Apparently his statement had been enough to do this too, because within the blink of an eye the spirit disappeared. She left no trace either that she had been floating where she had been a few seconds ago either, but the important thing was that she didn't start back up with her crying.

Poking his head outside of his room, he shot a few glances around to make sure she was truly gone. Satisfied with what he saw, Remy smiled and made his way back to his makeshift bed. As he did this though, the paint can that had previously smacked the back of his head suddenly jumped up into his face. Not expecting this to happen he had no time to block the can and of course wound up with a nose that spotted two streams of fresh blood.

"Oh come on!" he shouted in frustration to no one. Holding his nose in pain, he kicked the paint can angrily before proceeding to hurl every object he could get his hands on outside of the room. His logic was that if there was nothing left around him for the damn ghost to harm him with, then maybe she would leave him alone. By the time he was done with this then, there was a pile of objects outside his room that he had gotten from the rooms shelves. These objects ranged from common household tools to paint cans that had popped open due to the force in which he had thrown or kicked them. Since most of this paint was red, the splatters of it on the floors and walls looked eerily similar to blood.

His next step was to block the entrance with the two rolling carts he had been sleeping behind. He stacked one on top of the other in the hopes that this might block off the female spirit, but it was then that he realized that ghosts could walk through walls. Feeling stupid, Remy gave up on doing anything else and returned to his bed. At this point he was even more exhausted than before, too exhausted in fact, that he didn't bother with going the extra mile of plugging his ears up with some of his newspaper blanket. The reason for neglecting this step was a good one though, and it was because he had already passed out. His tired mind just wasn't able to make sense of his environment anymore, so even if the spirit started crying again or he was pummeled with more random objects, it was highly doubtful that he would wake up.

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**Author's Note:** Poor, poor Remy. He doesn't realize yet that there is more than just one spirit that resides in Ocean House Hotel. This chapter was really meant to serve as further insight into how Remy's journey into the plot of VTMB is going. I'm going to do this a few other times too, not only to practice different styles of writing, but to let readers know where the plot is going. His character is one that will start out as an asshole, but will hopefully redeem himself later on. I know right now it seems doubtful, but every arrogant character has a changing moment at some point in their life. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, but whether you did or not, please let me know through a review. I know this whole bit probably gets old, but it's your support that helps me along. Thanks!


	43. Sapphire Skies

**Author's Note:** Alright, so rather than apologize for why this chapter was delayed I'm just going to state that from here on out this will probably become the usual amount of days in between each release. My next college semester starts up next week, so my time will be sadly strained. Good news is that here's the new chapter! Rather than give away the details, I will just say it's through Valeska's POV and explain any needed details at the end. It picks up right after she got the email from LaCroix, so enjoy! Also, the response section might be a little long this time around

**Special Thanks: **Thank you very much to InsaniaTorn who favorite'd me, my story, and is now following Secrets of Blood as well! As always I want to express my gratitude to the reviewers of the previous chapter as well, and they are Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, myobsidianbutterfly, Deprivation, RavynKlaine, Ambrii, Leni, and aberdeenkev! All of you are so awesome. ^_^

**Responses: **To Sasha: I understand, anime especially can be very addicting! But yes, as we all know from the events of the game, things are only going to get worse.

To myobsidianbutterfly: Welcome back! No worries on being gone for so long, it happens to everyone so no ill will here. The plagiarism thing is sadly quite genuine though, as my friend would never, ever do such a thing. Her work (the little of it that I have read recently) is far superior to my own in my eyes and she is too mature and helpful to do something like that. Thank you for defending me though, and thanks so much for the very awesome review! I would love to respond to every part of her review, but I don't want to bog you down with a response that is too long. I do have to say though…you're a True Blood fan too? Awesome! The scene in which LaCroix frenzied on Valeska was actually inspired by one of the scenes in that show. I look forward to your next review! ^_^

To Deprivation: Hello there! No worries on not reviewing, you have now so thank you! Rednightmare does indeed give the best constructive criticism, and it's always very appreciated. I am happy that you're enjoying Remy, as I was worried he would be outright hated by everyone. He's a jerk now, but he will soften up later even more so. Thanks again, and so long as I have readers I will always keep writing. =)

To RavynKlaine: Two reviews! :o Thank you and welcome back! It sounds like you've got a lot of drama going on in your life, and as someone who has been suffering from it lately as well, I hope things mellow out for you soon. Yes, my interpretation of the game will be similar to the real one but with a few added in scenes and a description of what went on when the PC was running around. No one likes Vandal it seems, so I am glad to hear that too. xD Yes Remy is a jerk, but I promise he will mellow out lol. As for Heather…I'm not sure yet. Good luck with your finals, and I look forward to your next review!

To Ambrii: Hello again, and welcome back! No worries about the vacation, we all need a break and I completely understand. I have a way of being resilient in times of stress somehow, but it can get to me which is why my chapters are being delayed to every week or week and a half. I am so sorry to hear about your cat, losing a pet is the most painful experience ever. *hugs* Glad to hear about which parts you enjoyed in the past chapters. Remy was supposed to be based off Zevran (a more comedic version), but his sire I hadn't even intended to be like Isabella actually. Only when you pointed it out did I see the similarity lol. I'm pleased that you like him a bit more now, and no worries, he will remain a comedic relief because I need to practice with comedy more anyway. =)

To Leni: That is exactly my intention too, to let the fans know where the plot is. =D I'm glad you liked this chapter, because the ghost parts were a lot of fun to write. I myself am still trying to figure out how LaCroix will react to Valeska being a dhampir. What do you think?

To aberdeenkev: Aw, sorry you don't like Remy but he will get better later on. First impressions are powerful though, so I don't blame you if you continue to dislike him. That was my intention after all, but as a Toreador he needs to have some resemblance of humanity. You might be right with your guess at the ending...

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**Chapter 42 Sapphire Skies **

"What? What's wrong, Val?" Mercurio asked, stumbling out of his bathroom in order to discover what had his pupil so alarmed. Glancing up from the laptop, Valeska saw that her mentor was holding a damp washcloth, presumably in which to clean himself with.

"I'll give you a hint. Who has two hands and an ego bigger than LA?" Valeska answered drily. Mercurio scoffed as he crossed his arms and leaned up against the bathroom's doorway.

"Main man's buggin' ya with that email already huh?" Now it was Valeska's turn to scoff.

"However did you guess?" the dhampir returned, making sure her voice sounded dramatic enough to be seen as sarcastic. "So you remember how I told you I frenzied on the Prince's secretary, right?" Mercurio nodded. "Well now he wants me to kill her, or at least participate in her death by cooperating with an assassin."

"LaCroix wants to bump off Kat?" Mercurio questioned with a troubled frown. "What the hell for?"

"I don't know, but listen to this," Valeska began before switching her tone of voice to mirror that of LaCroix's. "Miss Latimer, first allow me to convey my thanks once more for your actions as of late. Despite a few minor hiccups, you've behaved admirably these past few nights. Keep up the good work. In re-"

"Hang on. The Prince actually said _that_?" her mentor interrupted, a skeptical look present on his face. "You're yankin' my chain right?"

"I wish I was, Mercurio, but these are his exact words," the female ghoul responded, glancing back at the screen, "Maybe he's drunk or something…" Shaking his head, Mercurio crossed the room while using the furniture around him for support.

"Pretty sure vamps can't get drunk, kiddo," he clarified as he plopped down next to her, "Savin' his life must o' really earned ya some points."

"Yeah, probably…" she agreed quietly.

"What else does it say?" Mercurio inquired, leaning over to better view the screen.

"One sec, I lost my place." Quickly scanning the webpage with her index finger, Valeska found where she left off and continued. "In regards to your next task, I will keep things brief. My secretary, Miss Thornton, has become an inconvenience and needs to be removed from my employ. Putting it bluntly then, I have hired an assassin to do exactly this. I, myself cannot be bothered with the finer details of this job, so I would like you to handle matters on your own from here on out. Expect a call from my contact within the next few hours. – SL"

"Huh…" was all Mercurio said, patting down his blood stained neck with the damp towel he held. "His contact's probably one of the Assamite vampires he's got workin' for him. An' uh, that's not common knowledge so keep it on a need to know basis."

"No problem, but the Assamites…they only sound vaguely familiar to me," Valeska murmured, picking at her brain for any information that popped out at her. "Oh wait, we covered them a while back. The uhm, diablerists assassins or whatever right?"

"Yeah…they're a bit o' a complicated clan. Just as shady as the Tremere an' cursed by em' too from what I hear. Not sure the details, but it's probably just a rumor," he shrugged, "Still, you'll wanna be real careful when workin' with em'. If they get word you're a dhampir…"

"I'll be careful," she promised with a nod, not needing him to explain the consequences to her.

"Well aright…" her mentor accepted, the worry in his face as obvious as it was in his voice. As if he knew she had noticed this, he cleared his voice before continuing. "Anyway, I never got the feelin' Kat was enough of a pain to have the Assamite set on her. Wonder what she did to piss off the boss…"

"Same here. She was always so kind and helpful whenever I saw her. Proper too actually, which are traits you think the Prince would want in a secretary," Valeska added, "I mean she bought me a whole new wardrobe on accident when I first started working for Sebastian, but that's about all I ever saw her make a mistake with." Pausing for a moment, the dhampir's mind introduced a new possibility to her. With wide eyes, she quickly turned to Mercurio. "Do you…do you think it's because I drank her blood?" Silence sprung up between the pupil and her mentor, as the latter rubbed his chin thoughtfully with an expression that looked more troubled than ever.

"Dunno. Seems a little immature to me since she saved your life an' all, but if he's worried bout a blood bond formin' between you an' Kat…" His voice trailed off.

"…then he might want her out of the picture," the female ghoul finished for him. Mercurio opened his mouth to say something, but traded his words for a nod instead. "But to throw away a valuable resource like that is just stupid, even for a Camarilla Prince. It's not like I have any feelings of loyalty for Katrina anyway, so it just seems a waste."

"Uhm…you sure bout that, kiddo?" her mentor returned, his blue eyes watching her carefully. "Think bout it for a sec, how do you _really_ feel bout Kat?" Valeska frowned in a disapproving manner, but did as she was instructed anyway.

Recalling back to the memories in which she had interacted with LaCroix's secretary, the dhampir felt literally next to nothing. It was how she might imagine she would feel towards any random stranger she saw on the street. They were just sort of…there, like a unique part of background music that blended into the dull piece that was society. There were no special feelings or driving inclinations into wanting to help them, absolutely nothing. Then, Valeska felt something abruptly shift inside of her. It was like someone had thrown the switch in her brain that regulated her emotions, and made it so Katrina's ranking in the dhampir's life had been bumped up a few notches from just another person, to good friend. Now the only living people (so to say) that Valeska found more important than the secretary were her grandmother, Sebastian, and Mercurio. Before she wouldn't have even considered the secretary on that list, but most frightening of all was the feeling that Katrina had always been there.

"Well…shit…" she murmured quietly, licking at her lips nervously.

"An' there's your answer. The boss's already invested a whole lot o' time an' energy into keepin' you around. If you were in his shoes, would you wanna risk losin' a resource's loyalty after all that?"

"I…I guess not…especially if I know she could be easily replaced," Valeska answered slowly, avoiding his eyes. There was a bit more silence before the female ghoul sighed deeply and continued. "I don't know why, but you said it yourself: for some reason I'm special enough that LaCroix wants to keep me around. Well…at least for now anyway. In another year's time though, maybe not. It just might be my turn to have an assassin sent after me…"

"Hey now, don't think like that! Long's you don't screw up an' piss off the main man too badly you'll be fine," her mentor reassured, giving her a friendly pat on the back. Maybe as a way to make her feel better or some other unknown reason, he took the laptop from her and closed it so that it would fit back under his sofa.

"Sure, but haven't you been working for him long enough to know just how easy it is to do that?" Sighing again, Valeska leaned forward in order to put her elbows on her knees and rest her head in the palms of her hands. "Just admit it…I may be teacher's pet now, but in a few more years I'll be in the same boat as Katrina."

"I don't think so, Val. LaCroix may be cold, but he knows raw potential when he sees it. 'Sides, there's somethin' bout you he likes, an' that same somethin' is what's makin' him act like this."

Valeska said nothing as she stared off into the distance and let her mentor's words sink in. That special something had to be her blood; there was just no other way of looking at it. According to Strauss, dhampirs couldn't form blood bonds, but that wasn't to say her flavor wasn't somehow influencing her boss. She honestly didn't want to read too much into it though, because part of her wanted to believe that LaCroix's fascination with her stemmed more from who she was as a person, not her bodily fluids. In fact their previous encounter in the guest bedroom was what primarily had her investing in this belief. The look on his face had been so genuine, almost desperate in that he wanted so badly to stay by her side for the day. Was that all part of his master plan to manipulate her or was there something else there? She didn't know, but common sense told her that he probably didn't give a damn about her. It may not have made sense that he was manipulating her when he already had a considerable amount of control over her life as is, but it was still clear that he enjoyed his mind games. More than likely then, he was just playing with his food so that the moment in which he finally devoured it was all the more satisfying.

"You aright?" her mentor requested, pulling Valeska from her thoughts.

"Huh? Oh, yeah I'm okay, just considering my options is all," she responded, straightening up. "I keep having this funny feeling in my gut though that this is all a test to see where my loyalties lie."

"I hadn't thought o' that one…" Mercurio admitted with a frown. "What are ya gonna do if it is?"

"Well if that really is the case, then I can't very well tell LaCroix that I don't want go through with killing his secretary. To him that would be a sign that I'm more devoted to her than I am to him. That obviously isn't true, but he wouldn't see it like that," Valeska explained, "It's not that I have a problem with murdering someone either, it's just the possibility that I might end up like Katrina is what disturbs me…"

"Aw c'mon Val, you're like the bees knees to the boss!" The female ghoul remained silent, her mentor's comment doing nothing to sway her feelings of unease. "Aright well listen, I know this might not be reassurin', but if you make it past your first decade then the main man will have a harder time disposin' o' you." Valeska let out a sound that sounded half way between a forced laugh and a cry of surprise.

"You're right, that wasn't very reassuring at all! In fact, how on Earth could anyone find that even slightly comforting?" the dhampir demanded, a bit of hostility in her voice. Shaking her head, she stood up as she realized just how rude she was being. "Sorry, Mercurio… I know you were just trying to cheer me up, but I guess I just need some time alone to get myself out of whatever funk I've fallen into."

"Hey, it's no problem, kiddo. Not sure why I thought that would o' helped…must be loopy from the drugs still." He forced out a small smile, and even though both of them knew that the morphine had probably worn off at this point, Valeska returned his smile with one of her own anyway.

"That's ok, you're forgiven," the female ghoul acknowledged in a mildly teasing manner. "Besides, I couldn't stay mad at you even if I tried. You're like my closest friend, 'dad'." Mercurio's smile became a little more genuine at this statement, his eyes crinkling as he did so. After this comment, the remainder of their conversation consisted of a few short goodbyes. Mercurio offered to give the dhampir a ride back home, something she had outright declined because the man was still barely able to walk, let alone drive. He needed to rest, and there were plenty of empty cabs roaming the streets of Santa Monica anyway. She didn't have any money on her though, so her mentor loaned her a spare bit of cash for this exact purpose. One hug later and a couple of well wishes traded for good measure, Valeska was standing outside once again inhaling the relaxing scent of fallen rain.

Right as the ghoul was about to take a step forward though, she began to experience the same sensation she had come across earlier: a feeling of intense dread mixed with the belief that she was being watched. Yet upon glancing around, she saw no one, not even a homeless person which was unusual in itself in a place like Santa Monica. Perhaps someone like Gary Golden was merely hiding in the shadows or using Obfuscate to mask his movements, but in the end it didn't really matter who (if anyone) was watching her or how they were doing it. Whether she was being faced with a legitimate threat or it was just her own paranoia, she didn't feel safe. Before that moment she had honestly intended to walk all the way home, not only because the weather was enjoyably cool, but because it would have given her ample opportunity to sort through her conflicted thoughts. Now however, she wanted nothing more than to hail a cab and get the hell out of there.

Fortunately things seemed to want to go her way for once, as no sooner had she lifted her hand did one of bright yellow vehicles turn the corner. The windows on the cab were a little darker than what she was used to, but she thought nothing of it as she slipped inside the car and gave the driver directions to her place. He said something in return to her, but because his Middle Eastern accent was so heavy she was forced to just smile, nod, and hope that he hadn't said anything too important. From what she could tell it hadn't been, for he quickly shifted the vehicle into drive and moved forward down the street. What was surprisingly to the dhampir though was that he was surprisingly attractive compared to most of the other cab drivers she had interacted with in the past. His cropped black hair was neither greasy nor frizzy, and his overall smell told a tale that he probably bathed often. To her then it was just a shame that she wasn't able to understand the dark skinned man better, because at first glance his appearance suggested that he was probably an interesting person.

Now buckled up safely in the back of the vehicle, the dhampir mostly forgot about the cabbie and let her thoughts wander like she usually did in car rides. Oddly enough however, her mind went blank. There was so much she could have been analyzing at that moment or preparing for even, but instead she seemed content to stare blankly out her dark window which she now realized was tinted for some reason. Once again she disregarded this feature of the vehicle, but this time it had been out of sheer fatigue. Also, it was because her attention had been pulled by the subtle amount of sunlight peeking up from the freeway's horizon. How long had it been since she had just sat and watched a sunrise? A month? Two months? Or was it longer than even that?

Belonging to a world in which most of the individuals preferred darkness, Valeska suddenly came to the revelation of just how lucky she was. She may not have been a huge fan of that big orb of fire floating some ninety million miles away, but sunrises were in her opinion, the most beautiful spectacle that the universe had to offer. It was an interesting sensation, that moment before a sunrise, because there was no other time of the day in which the world was more silently peaceful (at least in her hemisphere anyway). Somehow it felt like everything and everyone was holding their breath as they waited for the day to begin anew, even if technically midnight was the time that signified the turning of a new date. There was no other time of the day when the sky was more beautiful either, as it was when the twinkling of the stars slowly faded into a colorfully shifting atmosphere of pitch black to dark purple to the beginning hues of blue. A sky full of sapphires was what a younger version of herself had called it, something her father had chuckled at she recalled. It wasn't until she was much older did she realize that those supposed jewels were actually just burning balls of gas billions of light years away. A fact that was no doubt interesting to think about, but not nearly as magical as her original idea that sounded similar to a cheesy poem a Toreador might write.

Still, for as extraordinary as sunrises were to her, it was sad to think that vampires would never be able to see one again unless they wished to go up in flames. Such a death after several centuries or millennia would probably be considered highly romantic to an individual that had survived for so long in the shadows, but for the rest, the solar system's star was greatly feared. Sure there had been times when Valeska had pondered briefly upon this, but it was only when she thought of her lonely Prince staring out over his city did it actually affect her so heavily. So many times she had taken for granted the warmth the sun had bestowed upon her during the winter months, glared upwards at it during the long, hot summer days, and even complained about it more than once to her college friends. She knew life without the sun wouldn't have been possible for so many different reasons, but even so she continued to despise it. All of her reasons for doing so were very childish when she actually considered them though, because there probably wasn't a vampire alive that wouldn't trade a minor sunburn or a bit of sweat for five minutes outside during the day.

Her boss specifically was someone she couldn't help but wonder whether or not he yearned for the daylight, and if so, how intense this desire was. He may have only been a few centuries old, but that was still more than two hundred years spent in the dark. Valeska herself knew that despite her issues with the sun, she wouldn't have been happy to avoid the sun for the rest of eternity. It was a necessary part of human existence, and the fact that vampires would die if they encountered it made her wonder how they even maintained their humanity. Being turned Kindred meant giving up so much of what made a person human, and the gaining of an inner Beast was probably the most troubling aspect of it all. Valeska herself had nearly frenzied on the ghoul Vandal for being a heartless bastard, but she wasn't even a full blooded vampire. How did most Kindred go about their night fighting their Beast when they barely had anything human to hold onto? Did it come to them as easy as it was for humans to breathe, or was it a balancing act for control? She knew, or at least believed that the Sabbat were wrong in the way they went about their lives, but experiencing that loss of control had her sympathizing with them more than ever. After all, it was much easier to give into one's inner desires rather than pretend to be something one is not.

Not wanting to think about any more, Valeska set aside a minute of her time to silently appreciate all that she had in her life that many others did not. Some of these were the sun, the ability to actually eat or drink more than just blood, and even certain death so that she wouldn't have to watch those she cared about grow old and die. It was a great way of putting things into perspective for her, like an optimistic reality check that didn't have to wait until Thanksgiving to be used. She was never really much of a holiday person anyway, not only because most of them were hypocritical, but because they brought mostly sad memories that she didn't wish to remember. Father's Day was especially rough for her, because her elementary school often had her making surprise gifts for a person that no longer existed. For her grandmother, that meant countless mugs and cards, but for Valeska that meant a great deal of sorrow.

Noticing that her surroundings had changed from the freeway to the onramp, the dhampir reluctantly pulled herself out of her thoughts and glanced around to see that her driver had taken the wrong exit. Seeing as how it was financially wiser for her not to have a vehicle, she did not drive often and thus had little knowledge of the shortcuts LA had to offer. That would have of course accounted for the unfamiliar exit. However, that did not mean Valeska was ignorant enough to not realize that his left hand turn was going in the opposite direction of where her apartment complex was located.

"Uhm, sir where are we going? My apartment is several miles that way…" Valeska announced, pointing behind her with her thumb and hoping that this was just a small mistake on his part. No response came from her driver though, and if that wasn't enough to alarm her, he suddenly locked all the doors in exchange for an actual response. Panicking, the first thing the female ghoul did was try to pull open her door despite the fact she knew it was already locked. Taking a deep breath and trying to disregard the disaster thoughts of rape running rampant through her mind, Valeska spoke up. "Why did you lock the doors?"

"Ah, Valeska, that sure is an unintelligent response to something that should be obvious," the man answered, his Middle Eastern accent now much easier to understand. Maybe that was because Valeska was prepared to have to decipher a heavy accent, but she had the feeling that it was really due to the fact that he had purposefully made it nearly impossible to understand earlier. Not that the real reason mattered, because her primary concern at that moment was how this person knew her name.

"Who are you? How do you know my name?" she demanded, sitting forward in order to better view his face. Despite her current fears, her initial thought that he was a handsome man remained. With facial features that were quite sharp, he appeared to be someone who knew how to use his looks to get what he wanted. His curved nose with its prominent bridge on the other hand gave her the impression that he might also resort to intimidation and scare tactics if negotiation didn't work. She couldn't see his eyes too well, but looking in the rearview mirror revealed orbs that were as black as a starless night. The only other thing worth mentioning about him was his dark brown skin which she had already noted earlier, and the even darker street clothes that accentuated the muscles on his slim, athletic build. As to whether or not he was a vampire, she could not yet tell, but such a detail would have accounted for the mysteriously tinted windows.

"You might want to sit back," was all her kidnapper suggested.

"Why? I don-" Without warning the driver slammed on his breaks, cutting off Valeska's response and causing her to slam her head into the center console of the vehicle. A crack sounded through the air, but it was not because of a broken bone, rather it was the sound of her glasses breaking. That wasn't to say her face in general didn't hurt as well, but since she had her seatbelt on, the pain was significantly reduced. In fact, she was sure that if it hadn't been for the safety device then she surely would have gone through the wind shield from her kidnapper's abrupt actions.

"What the hell?!" the dhampir angrily screamed from the backseat, not sure what else to say as she held her nose and tried to ignore the spider web like crack running across the left frame of her glasses. Not realizing that he had stopped for a specific reason, Valeska heard the door next to her unlock. Not wanting to waste a single second, she unbuckled her belt and scurried over to the door only to see it swing open before her. Someone new was entering the vehicle. Knowing that this would be her only opportunity to escape, she rushed forward in an attempt to exit the cab. All this resulted in though was being shoved backwards rather violently.

Swiftly straightening herself out, Valeska prepared herself for a second attempt at escaping. By now though, the second person had already seated themselves next to the dhampir. Watching in horror as they closed the door, she opened her mouth to scream as loudly as she could so that her last chance to gain freedom would not be squandered. Yet as soon as moved to do this, no noise came out. In fact she hadn't even realized it before, but there was no noise around her whatsoever. No loud hum of the vehicle engine. No rapid breathing coming from the Prince's ghoul. Nothing. Now there had been several times in her life when her adrenaline had done some pretty odd things to her body. Sometimes it had her ignoring pain, while other times it had her experiencing tunnel vision or even eerie amounts of increased intuition. Never had it muted her sense of hearing however. Feeling more terrified than ever, she turned to her second captor for some kind of explanation.

Expecting to see another man, the recent addition to the cab's backseat passenger turned out to actually be a woman, a very young looking woman who couldn't have been more than sixteen. Like her male counterpart, Valeska was able to see through her cracked glasses that she had the same dark brown skin, tight street clothing, and black eyes that practically screamed danger. Her facial features were similar to the male's too, but with only slight differences that made her look more feminine such as fuller lips, a smaller nose, and longer eyelashes. It was actually quite uncanny, but the two looked so alike that Valeska might have mistaken them for siblings. That was probably because there was really only one prominent difference between the two, and that was their hair. The raven color was the same, but the female had added dark, blood red highlights to her hair. Hers was much longer as well, and was styled in a ponytail that had been pinned upwards to the base of her skull. A unique choice of hairstyle to say the least, but somehow it suited her. Due to the poor lighting around them, her current facial expression was slightly difficult to read, but the one thing that was relatively clear was that she was either bored or perhaps disappointed.

"_This_ is who the Prince recommended? Hmph," the woman scoffed, "From the way he ranted and raved about how capable she was you would think she would at least look like she might be able to hold her own in a fight. Damn Ventrue must be losing his touch…" A flare of anger suddenly went up in Valeska, not only because she was being directly insulted, but also because her boss was having the same treatment unknowingly bestowed upon himself. At least her levels of fear had subsided slightly, because now she knew that her captors must have been the assassins LaCroix had hired. Still, she was told they would be contacting her via phone, not in person. A little warning would have been nice, but it was possible that not even the Prince was aware of what they intended to do. When she really thought about it though, it astounded her that she hadn't realized right off the bat what they were. Their style of clothing definitely hinted at them being a pair of assassins, but it was still subtle enough to avoid drawing attention at first glance.

Still, it didn't matter who they were because Valeska's irritation at the woman's comments had not yet disappeared. Sure the ghoul had insulted LaCroix from time to time, but hearing it from someone else angered her for some reason. Additionally, having her own capabilities brought into question based off her general appearance was also beyond insulting. It was true that on the surface Valeska did not look physically capable, as her build was neither athletic nor was it slim. If on the other hand she was being judged by her clothing choice, then that was more the Prince's fault than her own seeing as her usual style of clothing was comfortable and easy to move in. LaCroix wanted a servant that looked worthy enough to be at the side of the Ventrue, so that was the part the dhampir was unfortunately forced to play.

However, that did not mean that she couldn't defend herself, as there had been more than a few instances in the past month alone that would have refuted whatever story her physical appearance told. Most of her talents may have focused around activities that required a decent amount of intelligence, but that did not make her any less capable of combat. Probably the worst part of the whole situation though, was not that she and her boss were being insulted, but that the female assassin was speaking to her companion as though Valeska was not actually there. It was one thing to be disrespected, but being ignored was an entirely different kind of insult she wasn't going to stand for. Not having the ability to defend herself verbally then, Valeska simply sent the female assassin a glare. At that moment the dhampir wanted nothing more than to rip both of the assassin's arms out of her sockets, and it must have showed too because the woman burst into laughter that sounded like a witch's cackle.

"Ha! Seems I struck a nerve with that," the female assassin laughed. Valeska did nothing but continue to glare, and from the corner of her eye she saw the man's lips moving. He was saying something, but like everything else except the woman's voice, it was muted. "Ugh…you take the fun out of everything, Sayid."

"This isn't a game, Nyssa," the man scolded, his voice now obviously unmuted, "We have a job to do, so let's do it." The woman, Nyssa, rolled her eyes much like a child would and turned her attention back to the dhampir next to her.

"Well you can talk now can't you? So say something already," Nyssa commanded impatiently.

"I take it you two are the assassins I was told to expect," Valeska speculated, trying to sound confident enough so that her bitterness with the woman might be forgotten.

"No, not at all!" Nyssa returned sarcastically, rolling her eyes again. The ghoul narrowed her eyes instinctively, deciding that she really did not like this woman.

"Nyssa!" the man, whose supposed name was Sayid, barked threateningly.

"Yes, ok?" the female assassin corrected after sighing in an irritated manner, "Your precious Prince has hired us to wipe out some chick named Katrina, and you're supposed to help us do that."

"Did he say why?" the dhampir inquired, hoping they might know more than she.

"Did I say we were playing 20 questions? By Haqim you're annoying…" she countered, practically sneering as she did so. Valeska's anger spiked again, and she had to clench her fists to prevent herself from lunging forward with a punch. It wouldn't have gotten her anywhere, but it was clear that the only thing Nyssa seemed to respect was brute force.

"Well sorry, but I like to know as much information as possible before proceeding with anything," Valeska began through gritted teeth, "Also, I have no idea what I did to piss you off, but this is a very poor first impression of your clan. I've never met one of your kind before, but I didn't think the Assamite would be so rude." A bold response she knew, but an accurate depiction of what she currently felt. Yet this also turned out to be the wrong thing to say because within a blink of an eye, Nyssa had pulled a rather large, sharp looking knife out of seemingly nowhere and quickly thrust it to the side of Valeska's neck.

"Do NOT insult my clan," she threatened in a low tone, "EVER!" Valeska opened her mouth to say something, but Nyssa pressed the knife even deeper into the ghoul's neck as a warning sign. A sharp pain came from the area when she did this, but the dhampir attempted to remain calm even as a slight bit of her blood dripped onto the blade. "Choose your next words carefully, _ghoul_…"

"Nyssa! You will lower your bl-"

"Do it," Valeska interrupted, staring straight into her opponent's surprised eyes. Apparently Nyssa hadn't been expecting that response, and to be fair neither had Valeska. She wasn't even sure why it slipped out because she was not a suicidal person. Perhaps it was simply intuition driving her almost idiotic bravery, but for some unknown reason she felt more confident than ever.

"You think I won't?" the female assassin hissed, pressing the knife ever deeper into a wound that would no doubt show bright red tomorrow.

"Oh I know you would do it," the dhampir answered, Nyssa's grip faltering ever so slightly from confusion, "But the Prince values my abilities very highly, and if you kill me he won't be happy."

"Ha! Like an angry Prince is something I've never dealt with," Nyssa mocked, completely disregarding Valeska's statement and thrusting the blade upwards again with full confidence.

"Maybe not, but doesn't the Camarilla frown upon diablerie? I have no idea what kind of deal you have with LaCroix, but knowing him I'm sure it involves the two of you having your feeding habits going unnoticed by the authority in LA," the ghoul ventured, hoping that her assumption was a correct one. "If I'm wrong stop me now, but isn't it in your best interest to stay on his good side either way?"

At this point the Assamite vampire made no move to lower her blade, but on the other hand she was no longer pressing it painfully into the ghoul's neck. On her face was an expression of pure hatred, something that unnerved the dhampir for the primary reason of what might happen to her _after_ their communal job. Despite this fear though, she was also amused because Nyssa looked so very much like a child who had been caught red handed and then sent to time out. It made Valeska proud enough to smirk slightly, because she knew she figuratively had the woman by her neck. As his ghoul, she knew LaCroix would have been proud too and she was finally beginning to understand why her boss did what he did: it was thrilling to conquer an opponent with mere words alone.

"Lower your blade," Sayid ordered from the front, a subtle amount of surprise or even amazement in his voice that gave a further boost to Valeska's confidence levels.

"As you wish…" Nyssa acknowledged angrily, as Valeska exhaled quietly in relief. Sayid's accomplice lowered her blade and slowly brought it back to herself, but before returning it to a previously unseen holster, she brought the weapon to her tongue in order to lick the few drops of blood that had fallen onto it. However, as soon as she did this there was a split second facial reaction that lay somewhere between shock and curiosity. It made the dhampir tense up immediately, because she knew Nyssa's sampling of her blood would quickly reveal her as not human. Or would it? She was a ghoul after all, and so the Prince's vitae supposedly ran through her veins. The knife wielding Assamite seemed to be contemplating this exact thing, because the way in which she stared down Valeska was more than a little intense to say the least.

"You impress me, Valeska," Sayid complimented, "There are few people who have the nerve to stand up to Nyssa, and even fewer live to tell the tale. I am beginning to understand why your Prince has invested so much confidence in you." Valeska smiled; yet another boost for her usually sagging confidence.

"As am I," Nyssa agreed, but her tone was anything but friendly. In fact it was more like she was referring to something, which had to of course been Valeska's blood. That or it was just the ghoul's paranoia that had her ignoring the sarcastic bite of the female Assamite's comment.

"You will have to forgive Nyssa; we may share the same sire, but as she was embraced at a younger age her mentality can often be childish," the male assassin explained as his partner's teeth could literally be heard grinding in irritation. "I also hope you will forgive me earlier for stopping so suddenly. You haven't suffered any injuries have you?"

"Well my glasses are cracked, but since my nearsightedness isn't that bad they aren't really necessary except for seeing signs from very far away," she answered, removing her glasses and putting them in her pocket. She knew that the only reason Sayid was behaving in a concerned manner was the comment she had made to his partner earlier, but she didn't care. Her safety had been guaranteed at least for now, and that was all that mattered. "I have an extra pair at home anyway, so don't worry about it. I do have to admit though that I expected a phone call from you guys, not a full out kidnapping…"

"Something else I must apologize for, but your name has avoided our ears until this evening. We were suspicious, but more importantly, concerned if you would be capable enough for the job."

"I see, well are you convinced?"

"Yes, especially since this task will require the use of a silver tongue, not brass knuckles," he answered, making it so his partner's sudden silence was a bit suspicious to the ghoul. Before she couldn't shut up, but now she was studying the dhampir so closely that she practically felt like a specimen under a microscope.

"Ah, well that's uhm…good then," the ghoul said, not sure what else to say and becoming increasingly disturbed by Nyssa's stare. The car suddenly slowed to a halt, as Sayid put the vehicle in park and turned to face Valeska. She hadn't noticed it before probably due to the fairly tense situation, but the area in which they were in was her neighborhood. Her apartment complex was but two blocks away, so she mentally guessed that their conversation would be coming to an end soon.

"Now then, let's get down to business. Your job will be the easiest of all, and it is to simply find a way to lure the target to this address." Pausing in his verbal orders, the Assamite began to scrawl something out on a piece of paper before tearing it off its respective pad. He then handed it to the ghoul who immediately examined it.

"How do I lure her in? If I recall correctly, there isn't a whole lot to do in the area."

"Incorrect. There are actually a few lesser known hot spots in the area, all of which Katrina is known for frequenting in her spare time. Simply convince her to go to any one of them, it doesn't matter which, and enjoy yourself," Sayid instructed, "At exactly midnight however, you must leave with the target in tow. We will take it from there."

"Sounds easy enough, but let's say I have second thoughts… What happens then?" the dhampir enquired as Nyssa snickered; Valeska ignored her.

"Second thoughts? Valeska, this is no time for battling conflicted thoughts of morality. You know as well as I that the Prince is an easy man to anger. Do you really want to risk his wrath by developing a conscience this late into the game…?" the male Assamite answered, his dark orbs glistening. "You know what you signed up for when you became the Prince's ghoul. Now you owe your master your allegiance."

"Right," was all the ghoul said with a curt nod. There wasn't much else she could say to that intimidating response, and frankly she had no idea why she had even asked. Sayid was an assassin, so getting compassion from him would be like squeezing water from a stone. She might have added that becoming a ghoul wasn't exactly planned, but the point was probably moot. "Is there anything else I need to know then?"

"Don't fuck up," Nyssa offered bluntly, "One screw up with someone this high up on the food chain and we can all kiss our asses goodbye."

"Despite my associate's inappropriate candor, I agree with her. The target is much too close to the Prince, so his orders are that because of this her death must be made to look like an accident," Sayid explained, "I'm sure you can imagine why."

"Political issues?" she suggested after a short moment of contemplation, "It could make the Camarilla look bad if it gets traced back to the Prince, or it might even start a war between the different factions if one side gets blamed for her death. I can't imagine LaCroix wanting something like that on his plate right now…"

"Hit it right on the nose. Your master may be a sneaky little snake, but he knows how to play the game of politics," the female Assamite stated, crossing her arms and leaning back into her seat. The dhampir moved respond to her comment, but before she could, Nyssa elected to opt out of the conversation by completely facing away and looking out the window.

"Ah, well yes. That is why this job has no room for mistakes or a crisis of conscience. You _must_ lead the target to the specified location and you _must_ lead her out at exactly midnight. Is that understood?" he questioned, watching her intently. It was odd, but somehow he reminded her of a Middle Eastern LaCroix. He was surely just as handsome, around the same apparent age, and even had that commanding tone that tended to intimidate her. However, besides his mildly creepy aura and coldness, Sayid was still much more pleasant to deal with.

"Lead her to a club, and lead her out at midnight," Valeska repeated, "Got it."

"Good, now get out already," Nyssa snapped, surprising the ghoul in the process. The dhampir looked to Sayid to negate this order, but when blinked blankly, Valeska simply frowned, opened the now unlocked door, and got out. The sun was rising after all, so their abrupt farewell and to the point conversation was to be expected. Once she exited the car fully, she saw that the front window had rolled down a few inches to reveal those same dark orbs staring up at her.

"We will see you later tonight, good luck," Sayid said. Before she could respond with a farewell of her own, the tinted window had already been rolled back up. At this the cab took off down the street, leaving the ghoul to stare after it and wonder if any of the previous events had actually taken place. Of course they had, but that didn't stop part of her from wishing they hadn't. The assassination of Katrina Thornton was going to be rough on the dhampir, but perhaps it was for the best because all that meant was one less blood bond. The one thing that had Valeska more worried than anything though, was the expression of curiosity Nyssa had worn upon tasting her blood. It was an anxiety producing memory that had been burned into her consciousness, and she knew that the only thing it spelled was trouble.

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**Author's Notes: **Okay, so for the few people who don't know about the Assamite clan, the discipline Nyssa used in the car was Quietus. The first rank allows for the vampire to silence everything around them within a certain radius that follows them (20m or so). Later levels can allow them to pick and choose what will be heard. If anyone wants more information on the clan, I can provide links if they PM me. =) I was going to say a lot more, but it's late and I'm tired so therefore forgetfulness comes easy to me. If you have any questions, just want to drop a few suggestions, share some compliments/critiques, etc, then please feel free to leave a review! I love hearing from my fans, as well as responding to them too. I look forward to hearing from you all soon!


	44. Skulking Shadows

**Author's Note: **Ta-da! A new chapter released right before the first day of the new college semester, and in only a few days after the last one! I feel rather proud of myself to be honest, and hopefully my fans will be happy with the quick release. After this though, school will take priority over everything so please forgive any delays from here on out. Going to keep things short again as to not spoil anyone, so all I'm going to say is that this one's through Val's POV once again and that a lot goes on in this chapter. It might be a good idea to pay attention to even the smaller details here, because they allude to certain things and will pop up again later. Enjoy!

**Special Thanks: **Thank you very much to Marystormshade for favoriting me, my story, and also for following me! Naruto Loves FemKyuubi also gets my thanks for favoriting me as an author as well. Thank you also to my reviewers, all of whom are very helpful with their responses and whose names are Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, StarGazers, aberdeenkev, and Ambrii.

**Responses: **To Sasha: Yes, the Assamites usually tend to spell bad news when they show up. They're definitely not my favorite clan out of the thirteen primary ones, but for my story they'll fit right in I think. I liked Redemption too!

To StarGazers: Hello there and thank you for your lovely review! I was a bit nervous about how the Assamite duo might be perceived, but I'm glad to see you liked them. Lately due to my own hectic life I haven't had time to check out a lot of the other stories here on the FF website. When I get chance though, I'll be sure to pop on over and check out your own. =)

To aberdeenkev: You just might be right. The Assamite are a dangerous clan to get mixed up with after all!

To Ambrii: Good to hear you still have pictures of your kitty, I myself do as well but they often bring me to tears. =( Anyway, Isabella mostly had to die for plotline reasons, nothing personal to her character in general. Side note: Anders was my favorite character though only in DA2 when he's with Justice; very complex and interesting. Moving on…I personally think most Assamite vampires are assholes from my own interpretation of them from books and video games. Hopefully none of them come to kill me in my sleep now from expressing my opinion. =P As for the rest of your review, I can't say much else without giving details away. I will say though that Nyssa is the same age as Sayid, but she has the mindset of a hot headed teenager as she was embraced during that time of her life.

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**Chapter 43 Skulking Shadows **

By the time Valeska made it back to her apartment, she was in no condition to sleep. Despite her confidence inducing accomplishments, thoughts of her encounter with the assassin duo had placed her on edge. Not to even mention that the general act of being kidnapped and having her life threatened had woken her up considerably from her previously sleepy state. At least the journey back had been enjoyably boring, something she found ironic as only one month ago she always thought her life needed more excitement. Now she wanted nothing more than to have just one long, lazy day to unwind with a good book or to perhaps re-watch one of her many Gary Golden films.

Yet whenever she glanced at her movie collection now, her stomach fluttered with butterflies that did not stem from excitement or happiness. Rather, it came from anxiety because it was only a matter of time until the Nosferatu Primogen came knocking on her front door for information. The deal she had made with him ages ago had not escaped her memory, and her run-in with him at the Malkavian dinner party had surely not been coincidental. Because of this, the old films she had of her role model would do nothing to relax her for as soon as he showed up on the screen she would be instantly reminded of their agreement. This was something she found more than a little heartbreaking, because in her own weird way she had fallen in 'love' with each of the characters he had portrayed. She hadn't thought about it in a while too, but seeing him face to face as a Nosferatu was like destroying the small bit of childhood innocence she had left. To her, it was quite literally the equivalence of being slapped in the face from reality. That wasn't to say her respect for the man had vanished, but that the image she had of him had been drastically altered in regards to not only his appearance, but his personality too.

Sighing because she needed something to break the uncomfortable silence in her apartment, Valeska flipped on her television and changed it to one of the many music channels. She didn't really care what she put on, so long as the infuriating ringing in her ears was silenced by some source of background noise. As to why her ears rang when it was quiet, she had no clue. Perhaps it was due to some form of early hearing loss, or perhaps people all around the world suffered from it. She didn't know, but because it lacked any adverse health effects besides annoying her, she didn't really care to look too much into it.

Eventually landing on a channel that played techno music, Valeska smiled and placed the remote down. She hadn't intended to actually listen to what she put on, but electronica, as it was sometimes called, was just as enjoyable to her as classical music was. She was kind of odd in that respect, because one minute she might be listening to a hard metal song, and the next she would have it changed to a cheery Celtic tune like something you might hear in _The Lord of the_ _Rings_ series. On occasion she liked rap or R&B, but she was just as likely to enjoy country as well. She appreciated uplifting tunes from the twenties too, but that did not make modern music any less worthy of being heard. Music to her was hardly worth something to be picky over, as art came in many different forms whether it was music, movies, books, or even video games. If she were to be completely honest with herself though, musicals were the genre that would always have a special place in her heart. They offered the best of all worlds by providing the audience a scenic view or dance if the song wasn't enough to describe the current situation or emotions a certain character felt at the time. Older musicals or ones that had a macabre theme to them specifically were usually at the top of her preferred choices, and just hearing the beginning notes of any plays suiting those qualifications was often enough to send her into ecstasy. Another reason no doubt for why she was so upset about the whole Gary Golden thing.

Standing up from her sofa in which she was seated, Valeska wandered about the small area of her apartment in search for her laptop. It may have only been a day or so since she had last been in her home sweet home, but for the life of her she could not remember where she put the damn thing. It was starting to make her feel very irritated too, and because of this she sent her foot flying out angrily at the nearest object available. This turned out to be the wall, which until now she hadn't realized that its pale yellow paint had begun to peel. Just another thing for her to fix, but that meant going down to her landlord. LaCroix may have put the awful man in his place earlier that week, but her beady eyed chain smoking landlord was still someone she wanted to avoid at all costs.

Deciding that she simply needed to unwind, the ghoul crossed the room, found her favorite pine scented candle, and lit it with a nearby match so she might get that cabin atmosphere going. After this, she figured that spending a little time out on her balcony to get some fresh air would be a good idea to calm her strained nerves. Every once in a while, though usually at night when the moon was out, Valeska tended to find herself on that balcony staring out over the streets of LA. The view wasn't spectacular or anything, but letting her mind wander as she people watched was a nice way to pass the time. It wasn't until she was brought into the world of Kindred did she realize that many of the paler individuals she had observed were probably vampires. Even more ironic to her though was how much time she used to spend gazing up at Venture Tower from a distance. How many nights had she spent eyeing that building when the Prince might have been watching out over his city at the same time? Were his eyes even good enough that he might single out someone who was observing his haven? If so, what were his thoughts when he saw her? Probably nothing remarkable, but it gave her an odd feeling that had thoughts of fate creeping upon her nevertheless.

Turning around so that she might head to her small balcony, she suddenly came eye to eye with that which had been sitting in front of her face the entire time: her laptop. It was just lying there upon her small end table, appearing innocent as one might expect from an inanimate object that was apparently oblivious to the fact that she had been feverishly searching for it a few minutes ago. She wasn't quite sure at this point how to feel, but if she were to venture a guess it would have been somewhere between the paranoia of going crazy and the exasperation of her pointless anger before. Her eyes often had a way of playing tricks on her when she least wanted them too though, so she didn't bother thinking about it too hard.

Speaking of eyes, Valeska was suddenly reminded that they lacked their most prominent feature. Reaching into her pocket, the dhampir removed her cracked pair of glasses and held them up to the light so she might better examine them. The spider web like crack on the left lens had spread out much like how an actual web might do, and upon closer inspection she saw that the bridge was but a hair line from fracturing. Sighing irritably, she tossed them a little too hard onto the nearby end table and watched as they snapped in two, further proving her theory that they were an inch away from death before. She may have forgiven Sayid for unintentionally causing them to break, and she may have had backup glasses with the exact same prescription, but these had been her favorite pair. She had possessed the golden colored framed spectacles for far longer than she could remember, and now without them she literally felt naked. Her lavender ones would do for now, but they would never be able to hold a flame to her old pair.

Not wanting to mourn their loss any longer than what was necessary, the ghoul located her backup corrective eyewear, placed them on the bridge of her nose, and propped them up with her middle finger. After this she proceeded to pick up her laptop with the motive of engaging in the task that had originally set her in her previous frantic frenzy in the first place: research. It had only been a few hours ago that she had learned she wasn't entirely human after all, and because she had decided to decline Strauss's offer, the only other place she could go was the internet. Not always a particularly accurate source of information, but probably a lot safer than being found in a library with dhampir books cracked open in front of her. Unless someone hacked her network and followed her every move, which she seriously doubted as she was pretty unimportant, then here she was guaranteed her privacy.

Unfortunately, consequence free access to the web meant being drawn into the evil that was the lolcats, one of the more popular internet memes that had been floating around the World Wide Web as of late. Valeska could seriously spend hours browsing the web for her favorite animals doing hilarious things with even more hilarious quotes added to each frame, but she refrained from giving into this. At least she would have, but the lure of the cats proved too much for her to handle. It was the same thing that happened when she used to have homework, but at least this time she had a good excuse for shirking her duties. She really did need some time to unwind and relax before engaging in her research, so rather than attempt to ignore the call of the internet she decided to get it out of her system by setting a time limit. Therefore, for the next half hour or so she found herself laughing until her sides hurt as she perused picture after picture of a cat doing something that was just plain silly. Combined with her amusement of the internet, the relaxing scent of pine filling her apartment, and the techno music she found herself tapping her foot to, this turned out to be exactly what the doctor ordered. By the time she was done then, she felt immensely better about everything in her life, proving that laughter really was the best medicine.

Now having enough motivation to happily begin her research, the ghoul brought up her favorite search engine: Google. Ah, good ole Google. Always there to provide hundreds of pages when most people (except the truly desperate) only went through the first few. Always there to serve as a spell checker when Word just didn't seem to know just what the hell crazy word she was trying to type in an essay. Always there to crack her up with its modified 'Did you mean this instead?', and terrify her with some of the images it popped up with what should have been an innocent search. Yep, good ole Google. Typing the word 'dhampir' into the site's search bar, Valeska hit enter and waited less than a few seconds for a return that had over five hundred thousand hits.

A bit surprised with the high amount of information, the actual dhampir wondered how accurate any of it would really be in regards to her affliction. Clicking on the first page, she read through the rather short article about her race which had apparently originated from old folklore tales. This hardly came as a shock to her personally, because everything that was considered even remotely interesting usually came from some ancient legend or another. Most of what the page had to offer though were things she sadly already knew. They were the offspring of human and vampire, possessed the latter's strengths but next to none of their weaknesses, and other such things one might expect to assume from a hybrid born child. Despite this already learned knowledge however, Valeska felt her stomach churn slightly with unease. A fair bit of it came from pangs of hunger she knew, but also from how uncomfortable she was with the situation. Accepting her nature was going to take some time it seemed, but since it had only been a few hours since the cat had been let out of the bag so to say, she supposed her feelings were probably normal.

Reading on, she learned a bit more about how dhampirs were supposedly formed. For the most part it seemed that it was usually the male vampire who impregnated a female human, and very rarely were these roles switched. Not too astonishing, but the part about vampires supposedly harboring a great desire for mortal women had the ghoul blushing. The thought of LaCroix lusting after her was what had caused this, but she knew it was a dumb idea. He was clearly a manipulative bastard, and despite his recent actions of kindness she doubted that he really cared for her. Besides, he was supposed to be like two hundred years old, so wouldn't getting it up for him be near impossible anyway? If her previous thoughts hadn't been enough to turn her face scarlet, then surely these recent ones were because they included her boss being naked. It was so embarrassing for her too because this envisioned image seemed to take on a life of its own as she entered the picture, ran her hands across his pale chest, down to his waist, and right to…

Shaking her head violently so that she might free herself of those embarrassingly dirty thoughts, Valeska backed out of the article and returned to the main page Google had provided for her. As she had feared, most of the remaining information seemed to focus on rumors or fictional characters that were laughably untouchable. Interestingly enough, most of these characters usually wound up turning against their vampire heritage out of anger from being forced to walk the thin line between monster and man. Each story was different, but this usually meant strict training as a child so that they might become a vampire hunter later in their adult years. After this, the character always did one of three things. The first was to seek vengeance on every bloodsucker they met as payback for their birth. The second was similar to the first, and it was to kill all vampires everywhere so that their humanity might be fully restored; very similar to the whole destroy the head vampire plot. The last was the most interesting in her eyes, and it was not to hunt down the creatures of the night, but to journey on an epic quest to find their parents while encountering multiple challenges along the way.

However, no matter how well written many of these stories were, Valeska still found herself snickering at most of them. She knew she shouldn't have since she could have just as easily became a brooding ball of resentment had it not been for her loving grandmother, but it all just seemed so silly to her. Not the idea that they were holding onto their humanity through dramatic measures or anything, as this was something the dhampir herself feared she might lose. No, rather it was that for beings that were supposed to be subtle, they really weren't. Why did she think this? Well for one, there seemed to be countless scenes of a dhampir wearing a leather trench coat and riding out on a motorcycle after soloing twenty bad guys with a sword as an explosion followed him/her out. These kind of clichés might work for an action flick, but for anyone trying to stay under the radar from humans _or _vampires who all tended to hate dhampirs, it definitely wouldn't work in reality. She really shouldn't have been so surprised though, because movies and Japanese anime had to keep their viewers' attention somehow. Not that she blamed the creators for this of course, because even she had to admit that they all looked pretty cool.

Shutting her laptop, the cross-legged Valeska on her sofa bed yawned, stretched her arms upwards, and then brought her limbs back down so that she might wrap them over the top of her head. She had become pretty tired during her rather unscholarly style of research, and it was no wonder too because nearly one whole hour had passed since she had started up. Not about to sleep in clothes that were still moderately damp in a few select areas from the rain, the dhampir stood up from the sofa and ventured towards her bathroom so that she might don her dark maroon nightgown. Nothing too fancy other than the minor bit of black lace sewn in at the bottom of it, but she couldn't help wonder if the Prince would have liked it. Disliking such intrusive thoughts once again, she attributed them to their blood bond and swiftly slipped out of the night's previous outfit that had the mild stench of mildew on them. Upon changing into her nighty and combing out her frizzy auburn hair, the ghoul took to brushing her teeth rather lazily as she stared into her bored green eyed reflection.

After her usual rinse and spit routine, the dhampir had an unexpected wave of curiosity pass over her. Placing her toothbrush back in its proper place, she leaned over the sink and grinned at herself. Her teeth had fortunately always been fairly straight growing up, but they were far from being perfect. They had a slight tinge of yellow to them that was embarrassingly noticeable, a sign that she had skipped on brushing them more than once in her past when it really mattered. She never flossed either, but besides dentists and avid brushers, who the hell did anyway? Yet it was not how perfect or rather imperfect her teeth were that had her examining them now. Rather it was the fascination as to whether or not her upper canine teeth were elongated or resembled that of vampire fangs. Opening her jaw slightly, she lifted her upper lip and stared intently at her left canine tooth, and then the right. At first glance they actually did seem a little odd, but she soon realized that when compared to her other teeth, they weren't really prominently pointed or even very sharp. Releasing her dried out upper lip from the lack of saliva, she stared at herself a while longer before bringing her hands up so that they resembled claws.

"Rawr," she said in a bored tone of voice. Baring her teeth for a better effect, she repeated herself with a bit more enthusiasm. "RAWR!" Frowning, she lowered her hands and closed her mouth. At this point she felt quite childish with her theatric display that wouldn't have even scared a fly, and what was worse was that her tired mind couldn't even make sense of why she had done it either. At least it had amused her to some degree or another.

Trudging back disappointedly to her living area due to her less than pointy canine teeth, she engaged in her usual bedtime routine of switching off the TV, blowing out her candle, and removing her 'new' glasses so that she might put them on the end table. Having fangs would have been pretty cool to her, but such a wish was kind of stupid when she was supposed to be blending in and masquerading her nature much like a full vampire might anyway. The only difference here though was that she needed to keep quiet around everyone, even other Kindred and ghouls. Besides, if she didn't notice pointy teeth as a child then it was incredibly doubtful that she would have them now.

Unfolding her couch into its bed form, Valeska collapsed upon it, turned onto her back, and put her hands behind her head. For a few minutes she simply stared up at the stucco ceiling as she examined its many cracks. There was no reason in particular for her to do this, but it was something she caught herself doing often nonetheless. Sometimes when she was wide awake enough, she would form intricate designs out of the imperfections present in her roof so that they might form a story that rarely made sense to anyone but herself. Other times she would stare at the lines so intently that they began to 'move' on their own, and make it so she had a difficult time figuring out what had even been present before she had begun. She had done both of these as a child, and apparently they were still fascinating enough to her to have followed the ghoul into adulthood.

Tonight, or rather this morning, was different however, because she was just at the point of utter exhaustion to bother with neither one of these games. When her eyelids drooped, she knew it was time to pull up the covers, and after doing it so it was only a short moment before she was dead asleep. Oddly enough though, the ghoul knew almost immediately that she was dreaming. Figuring out how she knew was really quite simple though, as she rarely if ever had her sleeping mind viewing images in the third person. Yet rather than worry about the peculiar change in perception, she decided to figuratively sit back and enjoy her 'movie.'

The first and most predominant part of her dream had unsurprisingly been about her boss, but unfortunately only a select few of the imaginary plays were actually pleasant. The two of them kissing popped up more than once, but it only followed after the Prince had finished screaming furiously in his servant's face that he had hated every inch of her existence. He was clearly beyond frustrated, but his usual characteristic of having a bipolar like attitude was amplified ten times over in her mind, and quite frankly it frightened her. His actions were aggressive and wild, like a frenzied animal whose hunger had not been slated for years. Because of this behavior then, the pinnacle of their interaction often ended with LaCroix sinking his fangs viciously into her neck. For some reason this scene kept flipping back and forth from the third person to the first, but to her it didn't matter from what perspective she was viewing it. Whether or not she physically felt the pain was irrelevant, because either way the act was still terrifying.

Worse yet, was that in between these emotionally conflicting scenes were unexpected flashes of imagery that made its predecessors look almost tame. One second she would see Mercurio smiling warmly at her like a father might do to a child that made them proud, and the next his obviously dead, mutilated form would be strewn across the pavement. His bruised face, wide open mouth, and upward staring eyes, one of which that had been popped, was incredibly difficult to look at for his final expression clearly mirrored that of pure agony. Fortunately this flash went by so fast that she usually had little time to observe the whole picture. Other times it lingered though, making it so she was sure that upon waking she would never forget the way his insides had been torn out and purposefully manipulated so that they formed a sick picture next to his corpse. And of course, like the sections of her dream that had pertained to LaCroix, there had been blood. Lots and _lots_ of blood.

The next part of her dream, or rather nightmare as it obviously transformed into, was content enough to throw the dhampir into the first person as she saw for the second night in a row, her father. The first half of their meeting at least was nothing too alarming, because all it depicted was her standing at a distance as she saw him trapped inside what appeared to be a large glass box in an all-white room. The walls were white, the ceiling was white, and even the floor was white, something that made the act of walking more than a little disorienting from the way everything seemed to be floating. Electing to avoid becoming dizzy, Valeska observed her father from where she stood as he paced back and forth like a troubled man might do when faced with a difficult decision.

However this soon changed, for snapshots of the glass being coated in dripping blood began to weave themselves in and out of her view of the crystal prison. Each time this happened she found herself taking a step towards the glass box against her will, until eventually she was close enough that her dad could see her. When he finally recognized who she was, his face exploded in shock as he rushed forward to tell her something. From his expressions and the way in which his lips moved, it was clear he was yelling something important to her. Yet no matter how hard she tried to hear him by putting her ear against the boxed prison, no noise reached her whatsoever. Soon he took to banging his fist upon the glass, but even with his visibly strong hits and the aid from his daughter who had followed his lead, the wall did not break. Anxiety began to overwhelm her, and when he suddenly began to point frantically behind her, she whirled around swiftly to face whatever enemy she would soon face. As soon as she did though, she was met with a wave of blackness that blinded to her to whatever might have lurking behind her.

With eyes flinging wide open, Valeska realized that like in her dream, she was in total darkness. Sitting up and ignoring her rapid breathing, she quickly reached to the location in which her lamp rested in order to switch it on. The small area was then immediately bathed in a soft glow of yellow light that revealed that she was in her apartment. That much was obvious from her surroundings, but her levels of unease still refused to lower themselves. From head to toe she was shaking, but from her frightening dream she was not surprised. Everything about it just flat out upset her right down to her core. The final section in particular that seemed independent from the other parts was what really had her on edge, as it had her wandering what had caused her father to be so distressed. To her he had always been an indestructible pillar of strength that had no fears whatsoever, but that image had more than likely been incorrectly formed through her innocent child eyes.

Whatever the case, there was then the problem of whether or not the man she had seen really was her dad. Had her father's spirit been trying to send her a message again, or was it just a figment of her imagination yearning for that which no longer lived? Better yet, was it just the Regent Strauss using his Tremere magic to mess with her head instead? She had no answers, and because of this she felt more frustrated than ever. At least the symbolism behind her nightmare did not escape her, and especially so with the parts about LaCroix that were obviously there to represent her conflicted feelings of falling in love with a monster. Sure he wore a formal suit and tie, but underneath his charming smile laid a menacing monster nevertheless. The images of Mercurio were also easy for her to figure out, as it probably centered on the events of the previous day or her concerns with losing yet another father figure. On the other hand, seeing her actual father confused her, and other than the idea that he was watching over her from his grave she had little clue as to what his presence represented.

An unfamiliar sound suddenly erupted from her bathroom, and though she realized quickly that it was her new cellphone's ringtone, it still caused her to jump. Rising quickly from her bed and straightening her night gown that had bunched up around her waist, she rushed to the answer the small device.

"Alright, I'm coming, I'm coming!" Valeska shouted groggily to no one. Picking up the phone, she answered it without bothering to check who it was that had been calling. "Yeah, what?"

"Excuse me?" the voice of her boss demanded in an almost shocked way. Valeska smacked her head with the palm of her hand.

"Oh crap, I'm so sorry, sir! I didn't check to see who was calling me before I answered," she quickly apologized, feeling very, very stupid.

"I see. Still, that's a rather unprofessional manner for a ghoul to answer her phone wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." A moment of quiet came from the other side before she eventually heard the Prince exhale. This sound didn't mirror that of an irritated man however, but someone who was quite exhausted. Somehow this made her feel bad for him, as she could already picture him sitting in his leather armchair and rubbing his forehead in frustration at the work that lay ahead of him.

"Have you checked the time yet, Miss Latimer?" Once again there was no irritation in the way he addressed her. It was nothing more than a simply query.

"No, sir. I just woke up." There was more silence from the other line like he was waiting for her to say something, so trying to figure out what it was he was hinting at, she walked back into the living room. Glancing up at the clock, she saw that the face read a quarter to nine. Still plenty of time until the hit was scheduled to go down, but cutting it a little close nevertheless. "Oh."

"Oh indeed. I find myself wondering in disappointment now if you would you have even woken up had it not been for my call." This time the irritation in her boss's voice was clear, but she wondered why because she hadn't failed him yet. If things went as planned she wouldn't anyway, so what was his problem?

"Actually, sir, I was already awake before you called me," she explained, hoping to nip their potential argument in the butt before it even began.

"I do not tolerate lying, Miss Latimer. You either just woke up or you did not. So which is it?"

"A little confusing, but both actually. I really did just wake up, but it was from a nightmare I was having, not your call," the dhampir clarified.

"What was the nightmare about?" LaCroix asked suddenly and curiously. A little shocked at his straightforward and rather personal question, Valeska struggled with an answer.

"I uhm…well my father," was the short reply she eventually formulated, as she was not exactly eager to tell him that she had dreamt of him tearing her neck to shreds.

"And?"

"And what?" At this point the ghoul was literally scowling, and the defensiveness in her voice was obvious. Why was he so damn interested in her dreams all of a sudden?

"And what else happened? I find it nearly impossible to shut you up about most things, so why are you holding back now I wonder…" the pale Prince mused, his words stinging at the ghoul's pride.

"I'm not lying if that's what you're getting at," Valeska snapped hostilely, now well aware of what he was trying to do, but seeing it as a lot of effort to single out one potential lie.

"Then tell me," he commanded in a matter-of-fact way.

"I swear, you have got to be the most frustrating man I have ever met!" she exclaimed angrily, having a slight bit more confidence since they weren't talking in person. "I dreamt about you, ok? Are you happy now? Your damn ghoul dreams about you!" For what seemed an eternity, the revelation of her confession awarded her with nothing but complete silence. It was so quiet in fact from the lack of breathing that she was sure she had been hung up on.

"Ah, I see now," was what she eventually heard from her boss, a bit of satisfaction or perhaps smug pride added into his words as he spoke them. A very short response when compared to his usual seemingly long winded comments, but with the combination of his silence earlier and the way in which he now spoke, she suddenly realized what had caused both.

"Oh, and before you get any wise ideas it was only about you ripping my throat out. You know, just in case you wanted the details…" the dhampir clarified so that he wouldn't misinterpret anything. It wasn't that she minded her boss knowing she was interested in him in _that_ way, but it would have made the rest of their conversation very awkward. Besides, if he didn't already know by now that she attracted to him then he probably never would.

"Why, Valeska, I have not a clue as to what you are insinuating. Perhaps it is you that should reexamine your particular line of thought, rather than accuse me of mine," he offered, his voice full of what could only be one thing: amusement. Valeska's mouth literally fell open. The bastard was actually teasing her, _teasing_ her! It was such a clever response too, because it was not one she could easily come back to without further incriminating herself. Eventually closing her mouth, her lips curled upwards into a smile.

"Not sure where this side of you is coming from, but I uhm…I like it," she admitted before quickly adding, "Sir." She heard LaCroix chuckle softly from the other end, before he instantly cleared his throat. It was like he had realized what he was doing was improper, and now it was time for him to straighten up his act.

"Ahem, well yes. You have a job to do, do you not? Tonight is the only one Miss Thornton has off, so I would recommend you not squander it," the Ventrue vampire advised. Valeska's smile faltered for a moment before it returned in full force. She couldn't believe she was considering it, but she actually found it kind of…cute when he went from trying to be friendly to being the big bad boss all in one conversation. He was so awkward sometimes, and for a powerful and charismatic Ventrue Prince, it was interesting to watch him struggle with conversations that everyday people had in a bar.

"As you wish, my Prince," the ghoul acknowledged dramatically, her dorky grin never leaving her face. Here they were, subtly discussing the murder of a known associate, and she was as giddy as a school girl. It would have been funny if it weren't so sad really, but not even her previous nightmare could bring her down now.

"Very well then. This call has gone on long enough I believe so if that will be all, good evening, Valeska."

"Goodbye…Sebastian." Once again she was testing the waters with using his first name, but even as she held her breath she was granted no further response and was eventually met with the dial tone. Closing her phone, Valeska bit her lower lip in happiness and she did a little twirl. Was she being manipulated? Oh most definitely. Did she care? Nope, not even a little bit. It was a bit frightening that she was so neutral to this fact too, but even this concern was instantly wiped from her mind like it hadn't even existed. She would have been content to revel in this teenage girl like moment a while longer too, but a chilling cackling that seemed to suddenly fill her apartment ended her joyfulness.

"Ghehehe! Why just look at this…the ghoul has got herself a little crush!" a raspy voice exclaimed gleefully, "Am I the only one that didn't see this one coming? No?" Swiftly turning around, Valeska glanced around her apartment to find it empty. Licking her lips nervously, she spoke up.

"How ironic. I was actually thinking about you earlier," she addressed with as much confidence as she could muster. Unlike how she actually felt, she showed no indication of anxiety, though this was probably because she knew right off the bat who it was she speaking to.

"Why you weren't have nasty dreams about little ole me too now were you? I'm flattered, but a little worried too. All that time in the Malkavian mansion must have really driven you loony," the always intimidating voice mocked, his statement making the ghoul turn bright red with embarrassment. Just how long had he been hiding in her apartment? The thought of having a Nosferatu sneaking into her apartment unnoticed was unnerving enough as is, but the idea that he had been watching her sleep or eavesdropping on her conversation with the Prince was just plain disturbing.

"Yeah, well you know me…always falling for the really weird ones that smell like a sewer. Between you and me I think it just might be your ears. I have a thing for scaly bats you see," Valeska mocked right on back, disguising her unease with a series of statements laced with insults. To her surprise her conversational partner actually laughed, a sound that was long, cruel, and sent chills up her spine. Oh how she hated it when he laughed.

"So the ghoul's gained a sharp wit while I was out. You should be careful when using it though, doll. Keep feeding me those lines and I might just follow you home more often, rather than just last night," he purred with a tone that could have been interpreted as flirtatious, but threatening at the same time.

"I think we're past the foreplay at this point, don't you? Come on out already," the ghoul ordered, feeling even more creeped out at the thought that he might have been watching her the previous night. Was he telling the truth? Who knows, but it would have surely accounted for last night's odd sensation of being watched. Upon being kidnapped she had originally thought that it had been the Assamite duo watching her, but this assumption could have been wrong.

For a moment she neither heard nor saw a single thing, and it had her wondering whether or not the Primogen would even show himself. He was doing this on purpose she knew, as his silence was just enough to have her placed further on edge. Was he in front of her? To the side? Behind her? From the lack of noise she had no idea, and if she wasn't already uncomfortable enough as is, the Nosferatu vampire now had her questioning her own sanity. For all she knew she had simply imagined his voice, but this kind of psychological torment was not one she would give in to so easily. She was better than that, so she simply stood her ground with crossed arms and waited patiently for the Primogen to reveal himself. Fortunately she didn't have to wait much longer, for she soon felt the subtle sensation of a single lock of hair being lifted away from her ear.

"Behind you," Gary Golden whispered menacingly into her ear. Jumping about three feet out of her skin, Valeska whirled around to face him with an expression of anger and shock.

"Do you have to do that?!" Bursting into another fit of laughter the Primogen that smelled revolting wiped away an invisible tear.

"What can I say? It must be my calling, doll." Grinning from ear to ear, the appearance of the ex-Hollywood star had changed very little, if at all since she last saw him. He still looked like a rotting corpse, and he was still quite ugly, though not as bad when compared to most of his brethren she had to admit. So really then, the only thing different about him tonight was the bright red bowtie rather than the black one that usually rested on the neck of his contradicting tuxedo.

"Yeah right…" Valeska scoffed as her obvious distaste with his actions was wasted on her idol. Just now realizing that she was still in her night gown, she crossed her arms a bit more tightly over her chest. Her clothing wasn't revealing or anything, but she somehow felt very vulnerable in her pajamas all of a sudden. "Uhm listen, it's not that I don't enjoy getting my favorite actor of all time to visit me in person, but I was just about to head out…"

"Princey's got you that bored that you have to commit a bit of murder at midnight eh?" the Nosferatu teased, his face wearing an all too knowing expression as Valeska's eyes widened. "Oh don't look so surprised, it's insulting." Strangely enough, he really did sound insulted at her actions, something she would no doubt keep in mind for future reference in a battle of wits.

"Sorry. I wasn't doubting your capabilities or anything," the Prince's ghoul quickly apologized, knowing that she needed to keep the civility in their conversation alive. Gary didn't seem quite convinced at her words, but he didn't seem to care either. Crossing the room to the dhampir's movie collection, he examined each of them for a short moment by running his long boney fingers across the shelf's contents.

"Ain't nothing on these old movies but dust, doll. Was my first impression really so terrifying that it caused the perfect image of a well-loved idol to crumble to pieces?" When Valeska said nothing, probably from the shock of his superior perceptive abilities, the Nosferatu Primogen turned to face her like he was waiting for her to speak up.

"Why are you here?" the dhampir impatiently asked, hoping he would cut to the chase.

"Answer my question, and maybe I just might tell you." The grin on his face grew in size as the seconds ticked by, his jagged maw full of sharp yellow teeth doing nothing to comfort the ghoul whose feelings of vulnerability increased.

"To be honest I haven't really had the time to watch movies when the Prince has me running all over the city," she shrugged, her tone of voice flat.

"Dancing around my question like a true politician, Princey would be _so _proud!" the Nosferatu taunted before switching his tone to a low, menacing growl. "Give me a break."

"Alright so my image of you may have been changed a little, but that doesn't mean I don't still respect you," the ghoul reassured her idol, "I mean you saw me! I was practically in shocked awe when we first met, and that wasn't just because of your physical appearance either. Whether your face is a thing of angels or it looks like you took an iron to it doesn't matter to me. You were my favorite actor as a kid, and you will probably stay my favorite actor until I die." When she finally fell silent, the Primogen just stared at her. It was hard to tell what with his disfigurement and all, but he almost looked surprised. Such an expression was quickly gone in a flash however, and when he continued to remain quiet she spoke back up. "Now will you please tell me why you're here? If I'm late for my job then the Prince will have my head…"

"Oh fine, I guess you earned it with a display like that…" Her idol's voice was a little softer than usual, but if this was supposed to be his gentle side it was hardly comforting. "First off, you can relax because I'm not here to collect on our deal. I'll reserve that for something a bit more juicer I think."

"I wasn't worried," Valeska lied, itching the back of her leg with her bare foot, "But if you're not here for information, then why are you here?"

"Well, rumor's got it that Princey's looking for a new bird to fill his sectorial position, and that special someone might just be…" He lifted one of his long fingers and pointed it around a bit before landing in the direction of the dhampir. "…you."

"Me? But I'm not exactly qualified to be a vampire's late night secretary. Unless…" Her voice trailed off, wanting to keep the rest of her sentence a secret from the Nosferatu's prying ears. Gary looked amused for a moment, so he continued.

"Sounds like a bad sitcom don't it? Well it's true, and you have the whole underground network rooting for you to get the job. Or at least everyone who's smart enough to know who's who that is." Valeska opened her mouth to ask why, but it was pretty obvious why she might have backing from a select few Nosferatu on this.

"You guys want me to become the Prince's secretary so I'll have access to all his records, is that it? Well no deal. I'm not going to openly betray LaCroix like that, so if he offers me the job I'm turning it down," she flatly informed the Primogen. He may have intimidated her, but she wasn't going to let him walk all over her either.

"Oh relax. There are plenty of goodies you can pass down the grape vine _without_ betraying anyone. Besides, you're still under contract, or don't you remember?" the ex-Hollywood star reminded her, taking a step towards the ghoul who made no move of her own.

"I remember, but I have to wonder what it is with the undead and their damn blackmail; the two of you are practically inseparable," she groaned inwardly as Gary merely smirked, "Alright look, if he offers me the job I'll think about it, but to be honest I'm already overwhelmed as is now. A nine to five job plus everything else he has me doing just sounds exhausting…"

"But the perks have you being around Princey dear almost 24/7, doll," Gorgeous Gary purred as he sent the uncomfortably shifting ghoul a wink.

"Very funny, but I doubt even I could stand being around him for _that_ long. I also doubt that you came here to tease me or even to let me know that you're rooting me on, so why are you really here, Gary?" Valeska shifted her weight again to ease her aching legs. She would have seated herself, but there was something about the height difference that prevented her from doing so. Equal ground was important here, and she was already intimidated enough as is.

"You're missing an important piece of information. I want to stop you from running to the Prince for help and ruining your chances at getting the job. Simple."

"But I don't…" she began doubtfully with a frown.

"Check your phone," he interrupted as he gestured to the small device in her hands. Still frowning, the dhampir flipped open her phone. On the screen was one new text message from a mysterious unknown number, so with her curiosity overwhelming her she hesitantly clicked 'open.' To her surprise, the message was really rather short as all it contained was Katrina's phone number and her address. At first she didn't understand why someone, presumably one of Gary's clan members, had sent her this, yet she soon realized it was because she didn't have any of that information herself. Like the Nosferatu Primogen had stated, she would have had to run to her boss for the information since any other method would have taken up time she didn't have.

"Oh, well uhm, thank you I guess…" She looked up at the ex-actor and tried to smile, finding it difficult to make such a gesture genuine when he was intently watching her like he was.

"Anything for a fan," he acknowledged with a grin before he unexpectedly disappeared into thin air. Instantly put on edge as she waited for him to engage in his next set of tricks, she was relieved when she saw her front door open. "Good luck tonight, doll. We're all counting on you now…" With this her front door quietly closed, apparently ending their conversation as abruptly as it had begun. Shutting the still open phone in her hand, she found herself torn between feeling relieved and saddened at the absence of her favorite actor. Deciding she didn't care which she should have felt, she shambled over to her sofa and collapsed on it.

"No pressure…" Valeska murmured aloud in response to Gary's farewell. Sighing heavily, she reopened her phone, and typed in Katrina's number. "Might as well not let anyone down…" She hit enter.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Blargh…I hope no one was out of character in this chapter because I really feel like either Gary or Sebastian qualified for those worries. It's probably just my paranoia with forcing a romance between Val and the Prince, but I hope it feels natural. Any response from my readers will be greatly appreciated then! There's not much more else for me to say anyway, so leave a review if you can as well as any questions/confusions I might clear up!


	45. Dead Man's Party

**Author's Note:** Well this semester is going to be a wee bit tougher than I originally thought it would be. From here on out then, I regret to say that my fans should expect a week delay if not more in between each chapter. Hopefully that shouldn't be too much of a surprise, but if it is then know that I am sorry. Moving onto this chapter, it takes place directly after the last and is through Val's POV. I've been working diligently on improving my writing, so hopefully it will show!

**Special Thanks: **Had a lot of activity for the last chapter, so I'll start off by thanking Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, SevenHellFires, and StarlessMoon111 for following me as an author. I also appreciate that SevenHellFires and StarlessMoon111 took the time to favorite me as an author as well. Yet I have to thank StarlessMoon111 once more for favoriting my story and following it just as JillxStar did. The reviewers of the last chapter are always very important to me as well, and they are Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, StarGazers, Ambrii, Leni, rednightmare, and StarlessMoon111.

**Responses: **To Sasha: Actually, if my research is correct then Haqim (Assamite antediluvian) is to have rumored to have found a cure for the Tremere curse. All speculation of course, but creepy nevertheless to think about. I am glad to hear you continuing to enjoy the story by the way!

To StarGazers: Wow, the way you put it makes it much easier for me to determine what kind of romance I want to go for. Thank you for this! =D I will definitely be going for a combination of the first and third options you shared though, because I agree that a knight in shining armor romance is not one that fits LaCroix's personality. Thank you again!

To Ambrii: Yeah, you and rednightmare had a simply reaction with some of the exposition. I've been trying to work on the whole show don't tell thing with my writing, but I still tend to get caught up with putting out too many details. I'll probably go back at some point and cut a lot of unnecessary information out later. Also, Valeska was made to be seen as out of character for her conversation with LaCroix, yet it was my mistake for not specifying that it was because she just woke up. Sorry about that, but thanks for pointing it out never the less! I'll be honest in that your review came across as a little harsh to me at first, but your frankness is necessary if I ever want to improve so no worries. =)

To Leni: I am pleased to hear you like my interpretation of Gary, as he really is one of my favorite characters. He's always so much fun to write for as well, though I sometimes wonder how he would react to my portrayal of him lol. Thanks for your input on the Prince and Val too, as I am still juggling what to do in regards to him discovering her nature. =)

To rednightmare: As always I'll probably end up sending you a PM for further help, but I do have to say that your intro poem had me dying of laughter. I showed my friend too, and it had an equal effect on her as well. In our opinion, you could give the actual Regent a run for his money. =P Anyway, thank you again so much for your detailed review and the constructive criticism you give as well. It is always helpful and always appreciated!

To StarlessMoon111: Thank you so much for your wonderful compliments! I would love to make writing a career someday, so your enthusiasm is motivating. LaCroix will be plenty more awkward yet, so glad you enjoy that as well!

* * *

**Chapter 44 Dead Man's Party **

With the phone echoing in her ear, Valeska wrapped her free arm around her waist and waited for the Toreador secretary to answer her call. In no way did she even remotely want to leave her apartment to help engage in the act of murder, but with so much riding on a single evening she didn't really have a choice. Thinking that Katrina might not even be home, her head shot straight up when she heard a female voice answer.

"This is Katrina Thornton speaking," the high pitched Toreador addressed politely; a perfectly professional greeting from one of LaCroix's many representatives.

"Hey Katrina," she greeted, straightening her posture further, "It's Valeska."

"Miss Latimer…?" the secretary slowly began, her voice a little hesitant, "How did you acquire this number?"

"Hm? Oh, the Prince gave me it to me awhile back in case I ever needed help," the dhampir quickly lied. Feeling a bit nervous, she began to slowly pace the small area of her bathroom as the tile she walked on felt like ice to her bare feet. "Mercurio's not answering his phone so I thou-"

"Wait, is the Prince alright? Did something happen to him?" Katrina hurriedly interrupted, her suspicion changing to concern as her composure vanished almost immediately.

"No, no, nothing like that. LaCroix's fine as far as I know, and this doesn't have anything to do with work anyway." The dhampir could have sworn she heard the Toreador sigh with relief, but it was so soft that it could have easily been attributed to some random background noise.

"Ah well that is definitely a relief then, though I admit that I am still quite confused… Why are you calling me if it doesn't pertain to our work related duties?" Like clockwork the woman's mistrust returned in almost full force, though Valeska could hardly blame her for such.

"Well like I said, Mercurio's not picking up his phone. I usually go to him for a lot of my problems, but he must be busy or something," the ghoul speculated, throwing a mild bit of nonexistent concern into her words despite the fact she knew her mentor was just fine. "My problem is one that would probably be better solved by another female anyway so…yeah! I guess you were just the first person on my list to go to."

"Have you no other friends?" The dhampir stopped dead in her anxious pacing. Such a simple question was surprisingly straightforward from what she was used to dealing with, and though Katrina meant no disrespect, it stung at Valeska's pride nevertheless.

"I…n-no," she stammered, before swiftly trying to justify her response, "I mean I did have friends in college of course, but I lost them when I withdrew from my classes. Had to cut contact because of my new life and all, you know?" Although mostly true, the ghoul's response was technically another lie. Not the bit about her having friends because she most definitely had them, but rather that she had cut contact with them.

The truth was, that save for Heather, none of her other friends had actually bothered to check up on her after she seemingly disappeared from college. Seeing as how she was one of the quieter individuals in the small group she used to hang out with, it wasn't too surprising. Being someone who tended to observe rather than engage in social situations didn't leave a whole lot of room for a long lasting impression after all. Still, it wasn't like she was a mute when she was with her friends. Was it really her quiet nature that made her so forgettable, or was she just that unlikeable? Either way, that pretty much meant that if she had been killed by the Sabbat almost a month ago, then no one would have cared besides her grandma and a lone fashion student. A depressing realization that had Valeska slouching her shoulders slightly.

"I was not aware of that, but it does make sense. I am sorry for bringing it up," Katrina apologized, the sympathy in her voice seemingly genuine to the ghoul. "I too know what it is like to suffer in isolation, to be abandoned by your peers, and to be subjugated to grueling trials." For a split second, Valeska was at a complete loss for words with the rather detailed and almost poetic response the secretary gave her. Then she was mentally reminded that Katrina was a Toreador, and her shock disappeared almost instantly. Looks like she was dealing with yet another Velvet Velour…

"Yeah…I'm definitely having a hard time myself adapting to this new life. I've never got any one to talk to without risking the Masquerade, I'm _always_ making mistakes, and I have no time for my hobbies anymore…" Willing her legs to relocate her body to the main room, the dhampir found her way to her dresser and began digging through it for something to wear. If her conversation went the way she planned, then she would have little time to waste time on simple things like eating and getting dressed. She might have elected for a shower too, but time was short and her 'stroll' in the rain during the previous evening was as much a bath as anything.

"What kind of hobbies do you find yourself mainly absorbed in, Miss Latimer?" Despite having a handful of interactions with the secretary, Valeska was still not used to how Katrina would end every last word of a sentence higher than the others. It was amusing, if not slightly annoying, and all together very similar to that of a bird chirping.

"Hey come on now, we're not at Venture Tower, Katrina. Just call me Val." She shrugged like the Toreador could see her. "That's what all my friends call me, or well used to call me anyway…" At this Valeska made sure to throw in feigned sorrow at the loss of her fellow academic colleagues in order to play on the secretary's empathy. Manipulating her voice turned out to be easier than she thought, though mostly because she was still a tad bit upset with her previous contemplations involving the exact same group of people.

"Hmm, well I suppose there is no harm in that. So what kind of hobbies do you find yourself mainly absorbed in, Val?" the Toreador repeated, her conversational partner momentarily distracted by the mess she was making in her apartment. Valeska had originally intended to invite the vampire to a night club in order to kill a few hours until midnight, but now she was faced with the issue of having no appropriate attire for such a place. She only had a couple of professional outfits, and she was loaded down with more than enough lounge around the house clothing as she tended to call it, but miniskirts and sparkly stilettos were in short supply.

"Artistic things actually, like painting, sculpting…that sort of thing," she lied again, knowing that her real hobbies would have probably scared Katrina away, "I love anything involving fashion too, but lack of money makes it so the most I can do is sketch designs in my spare time. Admittedly though, I can't really draw to save my life anyway…unless you count stick figures of course." A bit of a generic response, but from what little she knew about the Toreador clan, and more specifically Katrina herself, it would probably be enough to lure her in. After all, any individual that could go out and purchase an entire wardrobe within only a few hours had to be someone who was interested in the field. That also presented the problem of the secretary being heavily educated on the topic, but Valeska would cross that bridge when she got there. Besides, it wasn't like she was flaunting her supposed talents, but rather she was being purposefully humble in order to avoid further questioning.

"Well everyone has to start somewhere, right? Stick figures are as much of a step one as anything else in sketching," the Toreador laughed, a sweet sound that was soothing to the ears, "You know, you never really struck me as the creative type, but it is always refreshing to meet a fellow artist and fashion enthusiast." Frowning at what she held up, the ghoul said nothing for a moment as she examined a rather hideous shirt that was the color of split pea soup. Why did she even own this again? She tossed it aside.

"Agreed, but you said you were an artist too?" Valeska inquired before quickly continuing so that she had no chance to be interrupted, "Oh wait that's right, you're a Toreador! I usually don't go by stereotypes with the clans, but I have to say that you fit right in with yours."

"Is that so?" There was a minor bit of defensiveness in the Toreador's voice, almost like she had interpreted the dhampir's words as offensive. Obviously that hadn't been her intention, so she hurried to remedy the situation while picking anxiously at the edge of her dresser with a single fingernail.

"Oh yeah, most definitely. Even if I hadn't been told your clan it would have been easy to guess because you carry yourself with a sophisticated sort of grace that I've only seen with the Toreador," the ghoul complimented, "You also care about what you look like, and it shows in your sense of style. Hearing that you're an artist in addition to everything else then isn't too surprising since it just kind of…fits." If Valeska had actually been trying to manipulate the Toreador, she would have been personally embarrassed at the obvious flattery in her words. However, she was not trying. She literally meant every word she was saying which was almost frightening to her. Here she was, only in the beginning stages of their blood bond, and already she was swooning over the secretary like she was some superior deity. This was going to be one tough evening…

"What a delightful series of compliments! Thank you so much, Val," the secretary acknowledged happily. Her response and the way she said it signaled that she had already forgotten about any offensive feelings present from Valeska's last statement. This was welcoming, but also disappointing in a way because if their roles had been switched then the dhampir would have been highly suspicious. Sob story? Unusual agreeableness? Sudden matching interests and forced compliments? Unless two people were good friends or they really admired one another, then these were tall tale signs that someone was being a wee bit manipulative. Katrina never struck her as being an intellectual mastermind or anything, but she had hoped there would have been more between her ears than just air. It was possible she was simply going along with what was being said for some unknown reason, but after being frenzied on by the ghoul there was no reason for her to do this. The Toreador in her opinion then was either dim witted or on the flip side, incredibly forgiving.

"Don't mention it. I'm just sharing my observations is all." Valeska paused for a moment to silently remind herself to take it easy with the gratuitous praise. Mentally slow or not, there was no need to push it. "So uh hey, I know this is a bit sudden, but I was just about to head out for a night on the town. LaCroix gave me the night off you see, so if you're not doing anything…"

"You mean like a girl's night out?"

"Yeah! I mean if you're working or something then I completely understand, but I just figured I would extend the offer to a friend an-" She stumbled for a minute while trying to change out of her PJ's, the cool air instantly causing the newly exposed parts of her body to develop goose pimples.

"Sure, I will go with you," the secretary said, probably not aware of why Valeska had stopped midsentence, but apparently not caring enough to find out either.

"Really?" Valeska asked, a little taken back if not apprehensive about Katrina's sudden agreeableness, "You're not just doing this to make me feel better about having no friends are you…?" Grimacing at how painful the mere act of asking the question was and even more so the truth behind it, she threw her nightgown into the growing pile of discarded clothing.

"Not at all. Believe it or not I am actually being selfish here as I cannot recall since I last had the opportunity to venture outwards and just be…normal," the Toreador sighed dreamily, almost like she was reminiscing about something important. "Having the chance to dance the night away once more…it is almost poetic…" Valeska raised an eyebrow at her comment; something about how it was said struck her as odd, but she disregarded it anyway.

"Well then that's perfect because there's actually this little place I want to try out called The Bunker," she explained, the name of the place popping out from the address and popular places Sayid had written down for the ghoul. "Have you heard of it?" Deciding to worry about the clothes situation later, the half-naked ghoul decided to take care of the other issue she was facing: her growling stomach that was as embarrassingly loud as thunder to her. Taking the few steps it required to reach her kitten, she threw a hot pocket into the microwave and hit start.

"Oh yes, it is one of my favorite venues actually!" the secretary exclaimed excitedly, sounding nearly as giddy as Valeska felt in regards to how smoothly their conversation was going. "The club is an underground one hence the name, but because of that it cannot fit more than a few hundred people. That means it can get quite crowded rather quickly, but there's no better way to lose yourself to the music, which I might add is simply fantastical." The dhampir's eyes went wide not with wonder, but fear.

"Did you say underground?" Not exactly a devastating phobia, but not something that was entirely pleasant either, being deep underground was anything but an exciting prospect to the ghoul. There was something about the possibility of being buried alive that made her feel uncomfortable, and even more so when she was going to be packed into a crowd of hundreds like a can of sardines. Valeska did not like ridiculously large crowds, not even a little, so now her night had even more complications being piled atop those that were already present.

"I did. Is such a feature intolerable for you?" Katrina returned, the subtle tone of concern barely registering to the dhampir who had grown distracted by the delicious scent of cheese and ham. "The Bunker is not suited for everyone you know, so I completely understand if you would like to visit elsewhere."

"No, no!" Valeska quickly denied, "I really do want to try this place out. Underground or not I've heard some really good things about it, and not to even mention that it's your favorite venue." The dhampir forced out a smile at the irony of her next statement. "I wouldn't want to let anyone down…"

"Well alright…" the Toreador accepted, obviously not fully convinced at what she had heard, "But if you desire to go elsewhere, then do not hesitate to ask."

"Will do, but for now I guess I'll just meet you there in say…" She paused to look up at her clock and quickly assess how long it would take to get dressed, eat, and hail a cab there. "…20 minutes maybe?"

"Sounds wonderful, I will be awaiting your company within the parking garage. Oh, and do be cautious when traveling there. The neighborhood at night is not the most pleasant to be in." A sudden dinging sound drew the ghoul from Katrina's words, the empty gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach being too strong for her to resist directly grabbing the hot pocket out of the microwave. This turned out to be a horrible mistake though, for as soon as she picked up did the blistering heat emanating from it cause her to drop the food. Unsurprisingly, it splattered upon impact, sending out a spurt of liquid cheese across the tile along with more than a few cube shaped ham chunks.

"Okay, I'll be careful. See ya then, Katrina!" Valeska exclaimed, trying desperately to keep up her façade of feigned happiness and ignore the urge to curse loudly. Instead she bit down on her tongue to keep the profanity laced rant at bay until she at least hung up.

"Farewell, Val." With that the phone instantly went dead like the Toreador was truly excited for the evening. There was still something about their conversation that had her stomach churning in discomfort, but she was currently too upset with her stinging hand and the mess she was now being forced to clean up to bother with the task of over analyzing. More than likely the pains in her gut came from the fact that it was empty, and not anything involving Katrina. Was this job going to be potentially difficult? Yes. Was it going to be impossible? No, and knowing this she felt a little better.

Having the floor now clean enough for her to eat off, the dhampir stood back up in order to cook a second hot pocket. The five second rule was not one that ever applied to her, especially when it had been weeks since she had last mopped and half of her meal had been splattered across the floor anyway. Knowing she had little time to waste, she rushed back over to her dresser and reached deep into the back of the bottom drawer. What she pulled out was ancient in her opinion, but if the skinny jeans still fit her, then they would be perfect for what the evening required. Not only were they good for blending in within a club like atmosphere, but should things go wrong with the assassination then she would still be able to move both quickly and easily. All that was left after that was her blouse, which she eventually decided on a loose fitting maroon one that was low cut with long sleeves.

Throwing the shirt over her head and literally jumping into the jeans that were a little tight in the waist area, she finished getting dressed by putting her hair up, popping in some silver earrings, and slipping on a pair of plain sneakers. She then stuffed her pockets full of some cash, her cellphone, her keys and an ID in case the club was 21 and over. Having learned her lesson from before, she waited a few more minutes before returning to the kitchen for her dinner. Being cool to the touch, and her stomach grumbling too much to care whether or not the middle was still as hot as molten lava, she took a large bite out of her food. She of course ended up burning her tongue, but as she felt like she was on the verge of starving to death she simply crammed her mouth full of her delicious meal and ignored the pain. Just as having a blistered tongue for several days would be the price to pay for her impatience, an upset stomach from eating too quickly would probably be the price she would pay later on in the evening. Totally worth it in her opinion, but admittedly a bit shortsighted never the less.

Looking up at the clock one last time, she saw that it had been nearly one whole hour since she had woken up. She was cutting things a bit short, but so long as she acquired a cab with little to no difficulty, then she would be making pretty good time. Locking up her apartment, she turned to hurry down the stairs, taking them two at a time. The stairwell was surprisingly silent for a Friday night, and the fact that only the squeak of her rubber soled shoes could be heard gave the normally dull area an eerie atmosphere. She was so used to the sound of multiple televisions going, slamming doors, and heated arguments that she found the silence almost unbearable. It was customary for her to run into at least one other person when leaving as well, but for some reason her journey down also lacked this. Quite literally then, it felt like the entire building had somehow perished while she slept. Altogether then, not a pleasant feeling.

Swinging around the corner with her hand on the grimy banister, her fingers suddenly came in contact with something wet and slimy. Instinctively she retracted her hand like she had been burned for she knew right away that what she had touched was a piece of freshly chewed gum. Turning her nose up in pure disgust at the minty scented object, she wiped her hand repeatedly on her jeans while trying to ignore the statistics involving the number of germs the piece of gum probably contained. Usually she would have rushed to the nearest sink, but that involved marching all the way back upstairs when she was so close to the bottom of the complex. In this scenario, laziness and lack of time won out over her distaste for filth.

Now standing outside, it took less than a minute for her to hail a cab and for one to actually arrive. She would have been happier about this, but judging from the last time her luck panned out, she found her senses being heighted from paranoia as she slid into the darkened back seat of the vehicle and told the female cabbie where to go. Was she going to be kidnapped again? More than likely not, but one time was more than enough it seemed to keep this concern present in her consciousness. Taking a cab in LA was supposed to be common task, but being involved with the world of Kindred meant additional complications in doing so. Perhaps it was time she start looking at a vehicle of her own…

Getting to The Bunker after that only took a short amount of time, though she would have been lying if she said her anxiety hadn't peaked upon arrival. One minute they were driving through what really did look like a bad neighborhood, and the next they were taking an unexpected turn down an alley that lead them to a parking garage, the buildings surrounding the structure towering in height. For a moment Valeska found herself hoping that they were simply lost and that she wasn't being kidnapped once more, but when a muscular bald man dressed in all black stepped out of the shadows to motion them forward, she figured they were in the right place. The cab driver rolled down the front window to address the man, a whoosh of cool breeze barreling into the car after she did so.

"Ten dollars for parking," he informed the cabbie who scowled in return.

"Not parkin', just droppin' off my fare," was her response. The bald man looked almost insulted for a moment, but he simply nodded as the cab driver turned to Valeska. She tapped at the meter twice and held out her hand, a very frank way to demand payment. Reaching into her pocket, the ghoul extracted the exact amount required and exited the vehicle. Almost as if the cab driver was in a rush to be somewhere important, she hurriedly backed out of the alley and took off down the street at a speed that was surely illegal. Now the only people present in the entry of the parking garage were Valeska and the bald headed man, the two of them standing face to face in weather that was several degrees cooler than the previous evening. The smell of rain hung in the air additionally, but its usual appeal was masked by the strong stench of garbage that littered the walls of the alley they were near.

"You have ticket?" the presumed bouncer questioned as he scratched at his thick neck. His style of speaking sounded broken to the ghoul, and to her it resembled that of someone who must have had little knowledge of the English language.

"Uhm, no, I'm actually meeting a friend here who I'm guessing has both of our tickets. Maybe you've seen her? Petite, hair the color of flames, probably wearing designer clothing?" Valeska asked politely, trying not to get intimidated as the silent, brown eyed bouncer glared down at her. In a way he reminded her of the Sherriff, and she couldn't help but shift her weight in discomfort. "Or not…"

"Good evening, Valeska!" a familiar female voice called. Turning around she saw a grinning Katrina waving from within the garage. The red head had her hair loose, the length being surprisingly longer than what she might have predicted from the woman whom she had only ever seen showcasing ponytails or tight buns. On her face was the usual purple makeup she seemed to favor, but her attire was vastly different when compared to what the dhampir was used to. Her silvery blouse, if it could even be called that, was so tight and revealing on the thin secretary that she was sure that at any minute her breasts might pop right out of the top. Additionally, because her skin was so pale it almost made her upper half look entirely naked. The short pink skirt she wore was no better either, because although the color was visibly stronger, it was not the type of thing you would expect to see on a Prince's secretary. Her silver shoes were high heels of course, but they made the ghoul wonder how she intended to accomplish her previously stated goal of 'dancing the night away.' The final piece, or rather pieces of her wardrobe, was the limitless amount of jewelry she had decorated herself in. This wasn't entirely unusual in what she usually chose to wear, but the choice to glitter from head to toe still made her look like a Christmas tree complete with tinsel, multi colored lights, and everything in between.

"There's my friend now," the dhampir confidently informed the bouncer, meeting his eyes with her own. "May I go now?" The human version of the Sherriff said nothing, but he made a grunting sound similar to that of an actual animal. Glad to be leaving his presence that had started to reek of alcohol every time he opened his mouth, the ghoul strode past him and into the garage that looked relatively normal. There were a couple dozen cars ranging in color scattered through the area, all of them different models, but none of them sticking out as anything spectacular. Not that Valeska would know how to recognize an expensive car anyway.

"Good evening, Valeska," Katrina repeated as the dhampir neared her, a whiff of flowery perfume tickling her nose when she finally reached her, "Bouncer giving you a difficult time, hm?"

"Yeah…I felt like I was talking to a brick wall, or maybe the Sheriff," Valeska joked as the secretary shot her a knowing smile, "You look nice by the way, Katrina, though very different from what I'm used to seeing you in."

"How nice of you to notice, thank you, Val," she acknowledged, her smile growing a bit larger and lighting up her face in return, "You may call me Kat by the way. That is what _my_ friends call me." Valeska's own face lit up at this, yet oddly enough it was a completely genuine action. Whether or not this was because of their blood bond or the fact that she had technically gained a friend, she couldn't be sure. Not that it mattered anyway, because by the end of the night she would be just as companionless as ever.

"Alright, Kat. Shall we go in?" The dhampir watched as the Toreador reached into a previously unseen purse so that she might pull out two small squares of paper: their tickets. She felt a little unsure about freely accepting something that cost any amount of money, big or small, and it must have shown on her face for Katrina immediately addressed these concerns.

"I frequent this club often enough that I get a discount. The sum of both of these combined?" She held up the tickets to the bright garage lights. "Not even close to equaling up to that of a single ticket, so no need to bother paying me back." Valeska said nothing as she nodded, but to show her gratitude she gave her new, yet still temporary, friend a smile. "Now remember, this place can get rather crowded so just stay near me at all times." She gestured for the ghoul to follow, but stopped before either of them could take a single step forward. "Oh, and do not accept any drinks unless you have purchased them yourself or leave your own drink unintended. Rapists love to prey on victims in places like these."

"I'll keep that in mind…" Valeska murmured, feeling more tense than ever. She may have been a night owl, but she was quite inexperienced with what hot spots the night life actually had to offer. Unless she was severely emotionally compromised, a bar was probably the last place one would ever expect to find her at. Even less so was a night club, not only because of the supposed dangers involved, but because it just didn't fit her particular life style. Wanting to get the next few hours over as quickly as possible, she made a sweeping motion with her arm. "Lead the way, Kat."

Probably mistaking Valeska's request as enthusiasm rather than the nervous statement that it was, Katrina flashed her pearly whites and began walking toward the back of the garage. Trailing behind the woman whose heels echoed loudly throughout the concrete structure, they eventually reached an elevator. The ghoul's eyes went wide at seeing this, but she neglected to announce her phobia even as her blood ran cold. The incredibly intuitive secretary still seemed to pick up on her discomfort though, but since there no stairs in their immediate sight the most she could do was shoot the dhampir an expression of sympathy as they stepped inside the metal death trap.

Tensing up as the louder than usual elevator rattled downwards, a strange sort of steady humming reached Valeska's ears. It sounded a lot like the heavy bass one might expect to hear from a rave party, and when the doors finally opened to reveal a long, dank, and poorly lit corridor, this rhythmic humming was even louder. Rushing out of the elevator perhaps a little too quickly, the dhampir was then faced with coming to terms with the fact that she was now located deep underground. Not as terrifying as being trapped inside a metal box, but still not reassuring when the tunnel's cracked ceiling was very low if not altogether claustrophobic as the pair ventured down it. There were leaky pipes that ran across the walls as well, and each time there was a particularly loud thump of the bass, a few droplets fell with it. Such an effect was indisputably awesome, but with the condensation and everything else she was certain that the visibly unstable structure so far would not pass a building inspector's test. At least it was living up to its name, for she really did feel like she was heading into a bunker.

Finally reaching the official club entrance that looked more like a blast door than anything, Katrina stepped up to a mostly inconspicuous device that was lodged in the wall. Holding the tickets up to what must have been a bar code scanner, the sound of unlocking doors reverberated down the passageway as the automated door slowly swung open. Valeska had originally thought that the music had been slightly muted from the distance they had previously maintained from The Bunker, but once the front door was fully open she now realized it was because of the thickness the walls had that prevented her from making out the music better. She also realized what the pipes were for, or at least what their primary use was, for a billow of fog cascaded from the entrance as the Toreador and her friend stepped through the archway. Instantly a few droplets covered Valeska's glasses, as she was forced to remove them and clean the corrective eyewear the best she could.

Now fully inside, the door closed behind them, sealing them inside the deafening club while the ghoul glanced around to get a good look at the place. From what she could see through the fog which was fortunately starting to die down, The Bunker was anything but small as Katrina had originally described it. Sure it wasn't the size of a football field or anything, but its square footage mirrored at least the size of a decent sized auditorium with a ceiling that was only a few feet higher than the tunnel outside. Against three of the four concrete walls were several red booths, each of them being attached to a single table and presumably holding the purpose for people to order food or take a rest from dancing. Two of those three walls in particular actually had entrances of their own, a brightly lit exit sign posted above each of the archways along with a long line of people waiting in an holding area for their tickets to be checked. This signaled to Valeska that they must have come in through the back entrance, or at least an entrance for VIP members only. Turning her attention to the back wall, she saw that it was dedicated to a fully equipped and staffed bar as on each side was a bathroom geared toward each of the respective genders. There was another door next to the bar, but what lay behind it was a mystery.

In the very middle of the auditorium sized room was a DJ, so that no matter where you were you would always see him performing. Tonight a young man was in charge of mixing the dance tunes, only a few feet separating him from the mass of attractive people dancing around him on the colorfully flashing tile imbedded in the ground. The final observable piece that seemed to really set off the club atmosphere was the lights, dozens of them flashing several times a second as multicolored lasers joined them. Overall, The Bunker was everything she expected to see in a night club and more with the music being at just the right level so she wouldn't have to worry about making nice with the other customers. The air might have been a little stuffy and warm, but being underground with a fog machine and tons of sweaty people, this was kind of expected

"Come on over here!" Katrina instructed, her voice having to shout just to be heard. Pushing past the horde of people, she led the ghoul to one of the empty booths and slid inside; Valeska followed suit, the leather seat squeaking as she seated herself. This was something she insanely grateful for, as though The Bunker may have not been very crowded yet, the scene was still a little overwhelming to someone who was not used to music being so loud that it could literally be felt. At least the booth area was a tad bit quieter than the main area, and much cleaner too surprisingly.

"So this is the Bunker!" Valeska shouted to her Kindred friend, unable to prevent her foot from tapping to the catchy music, "It's larger than I thought, and louder too!"

"Exhilarating isn't it!" The dhampir didn't respond as she sent LaCroix's secretary a weak smile. It definitely wasn't as bad as she thought it was going to be, but she was more than content to sit there for the remainder of the evening if she could help it.

"Hey there, welcome to The Bunker! An exclusive and secretive night club open late every day of the week just for you! Can I get you two something?" a pretty blonde woman asked them, the name tag she wore reading Tina in shiny italic lettering. "Some drinks maybe, or an appetizer to get you started?"

"I am fine," the Toreador answered, her eyes traveling up and down the blonde's petite body and zoning in on her neck specifically. It seemed a sexual thing to do, but more than likely it was only the hungry Beast within her that had her behaving as she was. Seeing this as her only chance to avoid having to dance, Valeska quickly spoke up.

"I'm starved actually! Can I get an order of mozzarella sticks if you have them and a soda?" the dhampir requested, folding her hands in front of her as though the environment she was in deemed such manners necessary. "Doesn't matter what kind."

"Sure thing," Tina said, hurriedly scrawling the order onto a pad of paper and shooting a look at Katrina every few seconds or so. She seemed as enraptured by the Toreador as Katrina was with her, and it was likely that the two would probably be found later on in the bathroom with the vampire's fangs buried deep in the young girl's neck. It made her wonder if Tina was aware she would be donating her blood to the secretary, and if not, how Katrina planned to achieve this goal without being noticed. No doubt it would be an interesting thing to observe, but witnessing the Masquerade in action was not her intention for the evening. No, it was murder, and sadly something she could not escape no matter how much she wanted to. Watching as the waitress scurried off beyond the mystery door to what must have surely been a kitchen, Valeska turned back to her friend and smiled.

"So she looks nice…" the ghoul hinted, her playful tone of voice of course having to be a little louder than usual to match the volume of the techno music.

"Yes…yes she does," Katrina smirked before it fell from her face completely. She almost looked sad for a second, but when she saw the dhampir staring at her the smirk sprung back up. "I believe it is time for me to hit the dance floor, yes? After all, it might be awhile before I get this chance again…" And there it was again, the same odd tone of voice.

"Y-yeah, I'll probably join you after I get some food in my stomach. Haven't really eaten yet today," Valeska lied, the smile on her face as weak as her words. The Toreador had indeed spoken strangely once again, yet only now was she able to interpret it as sorrow. In fact, even as the secretary rose from the booth and made her way to the dance floor, it appeared as though she was more walking down death row rather than gliding as she usually seemed to do on a regular basis. Was this Valeska's own interpretation of the night interfering with her perception or was Katrina somehow aware of her impending death? If it was the latter, then why the hell was she going along with it?

Watching her friend closely as she weaved in and out of the crowd, it was truly an inspiring scene to see Katrina instantly gain control over the people around her. They more danced around her rather than with her, but as soon as she made a single move they would immediately reciprocate that same gesture if not in a slightly less talented way. It was like observing the waves of an ocean, and Valeska couldn't help but wonder what discipline the Toreador was currently using to exert her influence over the group. Sure she was more than exceptionally beautiful as well as a talented dancer, but there were few if any people who could do what she currently seemed to be doing so effortlessly.

However, if there was any hint that the secretary knew she was on death's door step, it was neither present in her body language nor her face. She was simply losing herself to the music, her facial expression mirroring that of someone who was experiencing pure ecstasy in a way that heavily reminded her of another certain Toreador dancer she knew. Valeska was certain that her own reaction to being surrounded by a hundred people would not have been nearly as happy, but she was pleased to see her friend enjoying herself in her last few hours. It was honestly a bittersweet moment for the dhampir, and she had to turn away completely to prevent herself from getting too emotional. The last thing she needed to do now was to start tearing up in a public place.

When her food finally arrived, she took her time eating it as she repeatedly checked her cellphone to make sure it was not yet midnight. She was still trying to figure out a good excuse for leaving, because by the looks of it the Toreador really did seem content enough to want to dance the night away. That was fine for now though, as in her mind LaCroix's secretary deserved every moment of happiness she could get. They may have been bonded through blood, but she was certain her feelings of affection would have remained nevertheless. The woman had saved her life after all, and it took a special kind of person to risk their life for another when they were already apprehensive if not jealous of them. In her mind it wasn't fair that she had to die because of this, and in her opinion the Prince should have been grateful, for his secretary's actions, not resentful.

Sipping at her drink gingerly, she set aside her food. She wasn't even hungry in the first place, and the stomach ache she had predicted earlier was starting to show itself. Luckily her experience with such deemed that it wouldn't last long, but it was still annoying and especially so when she was already battling a conflicted conscience. She had no choice but to go through with the assassination for a variety of different reasons she didn't feel like mentally rehashing, but it made her feel like the lowliest of persons out there. Betraying another was not unlike some of the things she had done in her own past, but the difference here was that for the first time in a while, she actually felt bad about it. All of this was of course a test on her boss's behalf, but she didn't care. The only thing she felt concerned about was how she was going to live with herself after tonight.

Momentarily distracted by the fact that Katrina had vanished, she scanned the club to witness the Toreador leading the waitress into the bathroom, just as Valeska thought might happen. It was only surprising because of how quickly she had left the dance floor, but more startling with how she was in and out of the bathroom within minutes. The waitress however, did not exit with her. More than likely she was passed out in the bathroom or something, as she seriously doubted that the heavy supporter of the Camarilla would flat out kill someone to satisfy her hunger. Quickly pulling back her food to make it look like she was still eating, Valeska beamed at the approaching Kindred.

"You are _still_ picking over that food? My goodness, Val, you sure are a slow eater!" Katrina joked, placing her hands on hips like a disapproving mother might do. Valeska had never known her mother, but why was she thinking of that now? The Toreador was gentle sure, but motherly she was not. Then it hit her like a ton of bricks. Valeska's mother was the only woman she had ever murdered, even if that had not been her intentions upon being born. Katrina would now serve as the second.

"A bit of a curse I guess," she returned sheepishly, picking at the food in the red wire basket. "Stomach's a bit upset too."

"Hm, well I am betting that it would feel a lot better if you bothered to get some exercise into your system."

"Oh I don't dance."

"And yet you invited me to a night club?" the secretary countered, a skeptical look present on her face that had a single eyebrow raised. "Come on Val, I caught you more than once swaying to the music over here."

"Well I mean I do dance, but it's mainly restricted to ballet…" Valeska confessed, looking back down at her food and simply hoping that she would drop the issue.

"Then incorporate your current knowledge into something more modern," the Toreador ordered as she reached for the dhampir's hand. Pulling her out of the booth with an unexpected amount of force, she proceeded to pull her in the direction of the dance floor.

"But I don-!" Valeska hesitated nervously, trying desperately to pull away.

"No buts!" Now smack dab in the middle of the crowd, Katrina released the ghoul and shouted out another order. "Just let the music direct you! Put your arms in the air!" All around the two, everyone appeared to have returned to copying every move the Toreador made. Yet whatever influence she had over the others didn't seem to affect Valeska at all, for the most she felt was a strange sort of electricity in the air that made her feel warm all over. For a moment she remembered back to when LaCroix had tried to use Dominate on her but failed, and she wondered now if the same thing was happening again with Katrina.

Noticing that her friend looked vaguely suspicious with her dancing, or rather lack of dancing, Valeska tried her best to mirror the vampire. To make things easier for herself she tried to move to the fringes of the crowd to escape Katrina's watchful eyes. Sadly though, every time she made an attempt to do so the surrounding people prevented this action. With the bass of the music pounding in her ears like a heartbeat, it gave her the impression that she was not enclosed by a group of single minded individuals, but instead one huge living, breathing organism. From a distance she had not been able to experience the affect as profoundly, but now up close and personal she slowly felt like she was slipping into the crowd's one track mindset. All she had to do was move as they moved, sync her breathing with theirs, and let her inhibitions go completely. Not necessarily an easy task, but the more she shuffled her feet the more ambitious she got. Eventually she had gotten to the point where embarrassment was not a key concern, and even her upset stomach seemed to leave her completely when her goals matched that of those around her. Her style of dancing might not have corresponded with theirs completely, but more or less it was the music controlling her movements and having that sense of direction was enough for her.

Then something caught her eye. It was a subtle thing, just a flash of darkness really, but it sent a chill up Valeska's spine nevertheless. Slowing down, but not stopping dead, she let her eyes quickly scanned the people around her. They all looked like they belonged there, but viewing past the throng of dancers revealed someone who did not: Nyssa. The female Assamite wasn't doing much, just standing there in the shadows watching Valeska intently with a blank expression. Feeling a bit unnerved, she glanced around for a clock. There were none present probably so people could more easily lose track of the time, but even without one she knew the deadline was drawing close. Why else would the assassin show up out of nowhere? Looking back to where she had last seen Nyssa, she saw the area entirely empty.

Pushing past the mixed dancers with a little more force, she found herself standing outside of them completely as she glanced about anxiously. Because of her preoccupation with dancing before, she hadn't noticed her heavy breathing or the fact that she was covered in sweat. Now she did though, yet it was still only barely noticeable for someone who was focusing on the single task of locating an assassin. The hit wasn't supposed to take place until they were outside, so why was Nyssa here? Was it actually a hint at the time, or was it to remind her in a rather intimidating way that even if she failed to go through with her task, they would complete it either way? An unexpected tap on the ghoul's shoulder caused her to jump.

"Hey, are you alright?" the comforting voice of the Toreador asked. Turning to face her friend, she tried her best to bury her shock.

"Uhm…no not really. I'm having fun, but my stomach is really killing me. I think being underground is starting to get to me as well," she answered, not exactly lying with either excuse. "Want to hit up a different club?" The Toreador was silent as her eyes fell to the ground. She seemed to be heavily contemplating something, but she soon shrugged and began walking to the back entrance without so much as a 'follow me.'

Catching up to the secretary, it only took a few minutes before they had left the club in nearly the same fashion they had entered. It was then the pair had to wait for the elevator to reach the bottom floor, an increasingly awkward moment for Valeska specifically because Katrina had yet to say anything else. For some reason she kept expecting betrayal of some kind from the Toreador, but the way in which her shoulders sagged told her otherwise. It made the dhampir wonder what her own body language looked like, but if she were to venture a guess it was probably somewhere between being nervous and incredibly saddened. The Toreador was but minutes away from her death, and there was nothing that could be done to prevent it.

Entering the elevator together, Katrina pressed the top floor button as Valeska checked her phone. Six minutes to midnight was what the time revealed, something that almost had the ghoul mindlessly reaching out to hit the emergency stop button. There had to be some way around this scenario, something she had missed or ignored perhaps out of pure ignorance. Yet she knew that was only wishful thinking on her part. She had gone over the details a million times in her head, and this was the only risk free choice open to her. How surprised she was then, when the Toreador suddenly pushed the emergency stop button and turned to face the dhampir. The expression she wore? Indecipherable.

"Let your disquiet fall to the wayside, Valeska. I know why you brought me here."

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**Author's Note: **So it seems Valeska's been busted, but is she really? Unfortunately my readers will have to wait until next week to find out, but hopefully I'll be able to release the next chapter a bit earlier. Any reception from my fans will always be appreciated, so if you can drop a review! Like I said I'm aiming heavily to improve by showing more than telling style of writing, but I might have slipped up by explaining more than what was needed. Feel free to share your opinion on this, and I shall see everyone next time!


	46. Bitter Betrayal

**Author's Note:** Yay chapter 45! I know, about time, but you know my reasons. This one is a little shorter than my last few chapters, but not by too much. It's only to make room for the next chapter though, which I'm struggling with what to do with. Anyway, in this chapter there is A LOT of drama and emotional scenes. Your perspective on certain characters may change as well. If you don't like that…then you will be happy to know that there is a bit of action to compensate though, so please let me know if this chapter works for the story or not, thanks!

**Special Thanks: **Wow, my story exploded with reviewers, favorites, and followers during the last chapter! Thank you so much everyone, you are so awesome! I still wish to acknowledge each of you though, so I'll just thank everyone through each category. Thank you SO much to The Ambulating Ferret, DoveyDovey, Coffanilla, MsDreamcatcher123, FearMyFoot, and morby-chan for following and favoriting my story. I would also like to thank MsDreamcatcher123, Coffanilla, and FearMyFoot for supporting me as an author by favoriting me, and again to Coffanilla for following me. Last, but most certainly not least is my highly appreciated reviewers who are Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, StarGazers, StarlessMoon111, FearMyFoot, Coffanilla, and MsDreamcatcher123. I love you guys! ^_^

**Responses: **To Sasha: I felt bad for Val in the last chapter too, killing someone you consider a friend sucks, and even more so with a blood bond! I can assure that Nyssa doesn't care about either of them though, since she just wants to get paid in one form or another. Once again though, no need to repeat certain parts of your review as I saw them before! =)

To StarGazers: Your insight and knowledge of Toreadors is very good, and I think your opinion of the situation might change when you see what happens in this one. You may be surprised or you may not, let me know what you think about it! I'm glad I'm showing more than I'm telling too, and I thank you for the tip about the thick walls. My biggest weakness is running away with a scene, I swear!

To StarlessMoon111: Haha yes I know I'm horrible with those blasted cliffhangers lol. I'm glad that I was successful in eliciting sympathy from the readers for Val. I was really aiming for that, but I'm not sure whether or not I write sad scenes well enough or not. I really liked your suggestion too, and I think I might just use it with a little twist down the road… =)

To FearMyFoot: Hey again, Leni! I love your new name by the way, it is hilariously epic. I am pleased that you were able to get that mini movie playing in your head while reading my story, it is what I aim to achieve all the time. I love putting out little hints, but not too much as you said, otherwise it can completely spoil the story. Thank you again for your helpful review!

To Coffanilla: Hello new reviewer, welcome to the fray! I am so happy to hear you are enjoying my story, and I would love to help you out. You can shoot me a PM if you wish, though I must say that I sometimes take a while to get back to people. My life tends to be very hectic and even more so with school starting, but I will try to help as much as possible! You might also contact rednightmare who is the one who runs the VTMB community. She gives the most excellent constructive criticism ever and is always really helpful. =)

To MsDreamcatcher123: Another new reviewer, hooray! Welcome and thank you for your review! Your kind words mean a lot to me, and it's great to know I am succeeding with my writing. I never thought I would have so many wonderful readers like yourself, and hearing that this is one of your top fics brings a huge smile to my face. =D I promise to keep writing, and I also promise that there will be much more drama coming from both Sebastian and Valeska lol.

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**Chapter 45 Bitter Betrayal**

The amount of information that went through Valeska's mind as she stood staring blankly at the Toreador after her comment was surprisingly, very little. It wasn't like she was incapable of comprehending the situation or even what Katrina had said, but rather that her thoughts were already jumbled up enough as is. With her nearly debilitating phobia of elevators and a conflicted conscience, any additional information seemed to slip right through the cracks of her brain. Eventually the secretary's statement registered fully in her mind though, and with it came a great deal of shock that she just couldn't disguise.

"What are you talking about?" was the eventual question Valeska returned to the Toreador, shifting her weight in discomfort. "I brought you here to enjoy a night out with a friend. What other reason would I have to invite you to a dance club?"

"To end my life," Katrina bluntly returned, shrugging her shoulders like this was a simple matter and not a life or death situation. The dhampir tried to intensify her already present shock by adding an insulted scowl to her face, but found she just couldn't do it. Being enclosed in a small box was bad enough, but being enclosed in a small box floating dozens of feet above the ground and suspended by a mere wire was much, much worse. Her usual capabilities to manipulate another then were drastically reduced by this fact.

"So you actually think I'm capable of murder." Not exactly a question, but neither was it a direct statement, her voice was so soft that it was barely above a whisper. That was primarily because of her inabilities to react with anger, so feigned sadness was naturally easier for her to pull off. "Why? What have I done to make you believe I'm that heartless?" Katrina sighed, turning away completely so that all the ghoul could see was her pale back.

"Because I have knowledge that you have carried out similar orders in the past, and that this is what the Prince desires you to do this very evening," the Toreador explained, the exact emotion behind her words hard to pinpoint. "I have served LaCroix faithfully for years now, so if there is an aspect of his personality that I know better than any other it is that when he desires something he will stop at nothing to achieve it." The ghoul was silent for a moment, weighing the possible responses she could choose in her mind, but mostly finding her brain more sluggish than normal. She might have attributed to this to her growing levels of discomfort with the entire situation overall, but to be affected this heavily was highly unusual for her. Either way she could not deal with it now, so she pushed onward.

"How did you find out about my task?" the ghoul inquired, knowing that continuing her armature level of deception was pointless when her curiosity nearly overrode all other concerns. "You may know our boss well, but from what I've seen he's just as good at keeping things hidden if he wants them to be."

"Then you really do not know Sebastian LaCroix," Katrina replied with a short laugh, a sound that did not mirror her earlier resemblance of innocence at all. With her half exposed back still faced to the ghoul she mumbled something that made Valeska frown. The thumping of the bass from below made it difficult for her to hear the Toreador as is, let alone when she was speaking under her breath. Glancing over her shoulder, the secretary eyed the ghoul for a moment before sighing irritably and continuing. "I am the Prince's secretary. Would you not think that I had access to some of his most private files?"

"No," the ghoul immediately denied as she crossed her arms, not liking the secretary's current body language or the way in which she spoke. "I can't believe for a single second that the Prince would trust anyone with that kind of information. He's probably got more secrets than the two of us combined, and not one of them is something he's just going to throw about willingly."

"I never made the statement that he gave it to me willingly." At this Valeska raised a single eyebrow, her response causing the ghoul to lower her arms in confusion. The Toreador was really making it seem like she had physically harmed the Prince, but clearly this could not have been the case. After all, she had spoken with the man no less than a few hours ago, so something else had to have been going on behind the scenes that hinted at other abilities she might have possessed.

"So you stole it then…or had someone else steal it for you," the ghoul speculated, bringing a hand up to her chin, "That kind of information isn't the type to be stored in a hard copy form though, so that meant you would have had to have gone through the network to get to LaCroix's email. Right?"

"Well aren't you the clever one…" Katrina mocked, almost like the entire situation was nothing but a game to her, "Yes, I did hack my way into his email, on my _own _I might add, and have been doing so for quite some time. Such a method assists in assuring that I remain on top of things, and it gives me an intuitive edge that looks exceptionally good on my résumé." Valeska nodded slowly, taking in the information as it came and trying to hide her surprise for the fear that she might offend her 'friend'. Things needed to stay civil, and even more so when the outcome of their conversation or even how long it would last was completely unknown. In her mind then, that meant staying away from unnecessary compliments, and sticking to the truth in the hopes of escaping the situation unscathed should it become a violent one.

"I…I see. Well if it's any consolation I truly and honestly did not want to do this," the dhampir admitted, looking down at her feet with guilt, "I can't tell you how many times I just wanted to warn you in the club about what was going to happen. To just scream out LaCroix's plan at the top of my lungs so that we might discuss some plan of escape. I was _this _close to stopping the elevator to do exactly that too." When she said this she brought her index finger and thumb together to display what 'this close' meant. "Yet I know I couldn't, because as you know LaCroix holds my grandmother's life in his hands. You have to understand, Kat, she i-"At this the Toreador practically whirled around like a tornado, her arms tightly crossed over her chest as she glared furiously at the ghoul who had not anticipated such an action.

"My name is Katrina!" she snapped angrily, completely cutting the ghoul off from finishing her heartfelt apology, "And the only reason I even allowed you to use my nickname in the first place was to lure you into a sense of false safety you dim witted tool! You really think I would ever call you friend? _You of all people_?" Valeska's jaw nearly fell open, the hatred behind the secretary's words just as surprising as her sudden movements. Sure she had been well aware that she was in deep shit when Katrina had taken to monologuing like a comic book villain, but the dhampir's future had still looked relatively bright even then. It was only now when the woman practically looked like she wanted to rip out Valeska's spine did she realize that she no longer shared the elevator with a glamorous Toreador. Instead she now stood face to face with a monster that was much more capable than anyone could have imagined.

"So everything you said before was a lie then." The ghoul wanted to say more, but something prevented her from doing so. Her body had tensed up beyond what was normal, and it was not just from being intimidated by the small woman nor was it from her elevator phobia. Something seriously wrong was happening to her senses, and she couldn't help but wonder if she was being affected by a powerful discipline similar to Nyssa's own ability to silence her surroundings.

"Hmph, it is no different than the tactics you were endeavoring to manipulate me with," Katrina began coolly, her anger fortunately seeming to have settled slightly. Her eyes were still boring into Valeska's though, while her perfectly manicured, blood red nails practically dug into the pale flesh of her bare upper arms. "I saw right through your little performance, but rather than confront you about it, I used it to my advantage by letting you think that you were the one in control. Being a false friend made this task all the more easy." In an attempt to calm the situation, the ghoul raised her hands as a sign of surrender. However, she soon found that in doing so her arms literally felt like they were made out of bricks. What the hell was happening to her?

"Okay look…I can understand why you would be angry about this. Believe me, I really do as I would probably react the exact same way if someone had been hired to kill me by someone I thought I could trust," Valeska hurriedly explained, noticing that the more she spoke the more her energy levels seemed to slowly deplete themselves. She was also forced to lower her arms, the mysteriously increased weight of her limbs making it unbearable for her to keep them up any longer. "But please try to understand where I'm coming from here… My grandma is the only family I have left, and I would do anything…_anything_ to protect her even if she only has a few years left to live. Wouldn't you do the same to protect the people who you love too?" Katrina's eyebrows shot up, her face twisting up with the rage Valeska had been hoping to avoid.

"How _dare_ you speak to me like I know nothing of love! I have felt more deeply than any ocean on this planet, and yet here you would have the audacity to deny me even that!"

"Now wait just a second, that's not wha-"

"Shut up! Your explanation does not concern me when it comes from someone who is so narrow-minded to think that everything and anything is about them." The dhampir frowned in confusion at her choice of wording. She had already ascertained from the Toreador's anger that this was to be some sort of revenge plot against her for being involved in her assassination, but now she wasn't so sure.

"So…this isn't about getting even with me…?" the dhampir cautiously tested, feeling incredibly arrogant even as she asked what she still saw as a perfectly appropriate question considering the circumstances.

"Good god you are as horrible as he is!" the secretary exclaimed with exasperation, "Everything always has to be about you doesn't it? You, you, and only you!" Each time Katrina said the word 'you,' she took to violently jabbing the ghoul square center in her chest, the sharp nail of her index finger feeling more like a piercing needle than anything. "Well believe it or not the situation at hand actually has nothing to do with you at all. In fact, if you wish to blame anyone I would look to your master to discover where the fault truly lies."

"The Prince? How is h-?" Stopping dead short of finishing her question, things slowly started to click into place within her unusually slow mind. Katrina loved Sebastian, or at least she was in love with the idea of such a concept. There had been so many times she had caught subtle hints of jealousy or signs that the Toreador was infatuated with their mutual boss, but it had all been minor speculation up until this point. "You're doing this to get back at him…aren't you?"

"Finally caught on have you?" she spat before lowering her voice and narrowing her eyes, "Do you have any idea…any idea at all how painful it is carry out a person's every whim but still be seen as nothing more than a mere peasant? To see in his cold, blue eyes that he is looking through you rather than at you? Do you?" With her voice sounding as fierce as a livid Prince, her fists were now also clenched at her sides so tightly that her knuckles were even whiter than her snowy skin. Valeska on the other hand was glancing down at the ground as she considered the Toreador's words heavily. She then returned her eyes to the Kindred's before her.

"…Yes…I do. Whether you know it or not I actually care a lot about him as well, but neither of us can expect him to return any sort of affection when he has been so badly hurt in the past," Valeska replied, Katrina's anger actually appearing to be replaced with surprise for a minute, "To demand something like that is completely unfair to Sebastian."

"You think of him as your equal then?" The dhampir's face scrunched up in partial puzzlement, a stark contrast when compared to the secretary's currently offended expression.

"Uhm…no. He's a vampire, a Prince, and my boss while I'm just his ghoul. If anything I'm actually inferior to him…"

"So then what gives you the authority to use his first name like it was your god given right to do so?" the Toreador sneered, her anger having apparently returned. Valeska mentally cursed herself after this, knowing that her slip up had just cost her yet another chance to defuse the situation. "No wait! Better yet, what makes you think you will be the one to melt his icy heart when you claim to know him so well?" Despite the danger of the situation, Valeska had to bite her tongue to keep from mocking Katrina's ridiculous manner of speech. This was an angry debate, not a poetic competition for whoever could spit out the prettiest statements.

"First of all, he gave me permission to use his name, and second, I don't expect anything from the Prince at all. If I never see a scrap of appreciation from him, then I really don't care. Serving his needs suits my happiness just fine." Katrina made a noise that sounded similar to a scoff and a hiss, neither one more discernable over the other.

"Spare me the latter! I can see behind your eyes the deception that lies there. You want more than what you let on, and only a fool would miss your blatant lust. If however I am wrong about that, then I would challenge you to remain by your master's side for several more years. THEN we shall see if your words still hold true."

"They would," the dhampir confidently argued, matching Katrina's glare and leaning against the railing of the elevator's back wall for support. She wanted to fight back by saying more, but whatever discipline was being used against her was an especially powerful one, and devastatingly draining too as she was currently experiencing. It wasn't like she had many options to combat against it either, so her only thought was to call for help using her cellphone. Of course that required removing the device from her pocket and hoping that it wouldn't be snatched out of her hand and hurled against the closest wall; a long shot to be sure. Her only real option then was to hope that the Assamites might grow suspicious at their delayed arrival, as it was surely past midnight by now.

"Well then I suppose it is too bad for us all that neither of us will be granted the opportunity to find out."

"What do you mean?" she inquired, being well aware of what Katrina meant, but attempting to stall for time to delay the inevitable. Whether the rumor that the Toreador clan usually relied on anything but physical violence was true or not, Valeska had no chance of defending against an attack even if she could somehow match Katrina's strength. She supposed then that it was a good thing the secretary loved to talk.

"What do you think I mean you imbecile? I know deep within my yearning heart that no matter what I do I will not walk away unharmed tonight. Even if I do somehow manage to escape the assassins unscathed, they will return and eventually I will still come to perish in death's embrace either way," Katrina continued, her voice strangely calm for someone who knew they would probably be dead soon. "This is a fact of my existence that I have come to terms with as I have lived long enough to appreciate the beauty of my unlife, yet not long enough for the Final Death to be something I dread. However, I will be damned if my passing will go unnoticed. I want the Prince to _feel_ remorse when I am gone, but the only way to accomplish this is take his precious little pet with me."

"I don't think you're going to affect him as strongly as you think, Katrina. To him I'm just another servant who can be easily replaced just by slitting his wrist open…"

"And that is where you are hopelessly wrong, for ever since you arrived the Prince's behavior has drastically changed. Suddenly I became obsolete when someone new was vying for my position, and now my services are clearly no longer required even after my attempt to reconcile with him by saving your life." Valeska was not surprised at Katrina's words, and in fact they gave her a small amount of pleasure that had her smirking.

"Heh, looks like things didn't go your way then…because either way you're still going to die," the dhampir taunted, holding on tightly to the railing to keep from collapsing under her own weight. Were such words stupid to say? Yes, but defusing the situation had grown out of reach for her anyway. She also had the feeling that their conversation would be coming to a head soon as well, so she needed to stay alert rather than playing nice.

"It matters not for as I said death holds no sway over my emotions. You on the other hand, who is a novice in the subject, will be meeting it head on even sooner than I. And with your death, I can assure you that mine will have not be in vain," Katrina smirked, her body language much calmer now as for the moment, she held almost every card save for the Assamites. By now though even that wild card looked unlikely, the realization of such causing both fear and anger to course through Valeska's veins.

"So then you lied again, this IS about me! With your abilities you could have seriously harmed Sebastian by exposing his secrets or even blackmailing him, but instead you chose to go after me!" Valeska pointed out angrily, her sweaty palm making it increasingly difficult to keep her grip on the handle bar. She truly felt like the gravity of the world had somehow been turned against her, and her knees had begun to wobble slightly from said pressure. "Why? Am I really that much competition for your damn crush or are you just being a jealous little b-"

An unexpected strike to the face silenced Valeska before she could say anything more, the strength behind it throwing her to the cool, metal floor and making her unsure of whether or not she had been slapped or straight up punched. At least it was relatively painless, but this worried her more than anything else she was experiencing as it signaled that her senses were slowly starting to become numb. In fact, she could no longer feel her toes or fingertips at all, and throughout her body were tiny little prickles that shot through her nerves like lightning. Bringing a single hand to her mouth, she wiped at her lower lip and examined the wet contents upon it: bright red blood.

"Silence, ghoul, for I will not entertain your spiteful comments any longer! My intention IS to destroy the Prince, but anything I might do would simply have him rising up from the ashes of his defeat in order to move forward with greater purpose. Failure is not something that slows him down, but losing you on the other hand…would," Katrina countered as Valeska struggled to stand. The more she exerted herself though the weaker she naturally felt, but even worse was that the room was spinning and causing her to feel violently ill. It was a terrifying feeling not to have your grounding or to even know which way was which, but once she forced herself into a sitting position it fortunately vanished before she could empty the contents of her stomach. Standing up at this point just wasn't going to happen though, so she remained on the ground instead.

"Wha…what are doing to me…?" the ghoul asked weakly, gripping the handlebar above her for dear life as her vision seemed to blur along the edges of her eyes. She was unbelievably breathless too, her lungs feeling like she had just run ten miles…after smoking a pack of cigarettes.

"Effects of the poison finally setting in? Good, it is about time."

"Y-you poisoned me?!" she gasped, her hand letting go of the bar to tightly clutched at her chest since the task of breathing had increased in difficulty.

"Not I, the waitress Tina did when you ordered your food. I found it ironic you chose the Bunker as she is one of my most loyal blood dolls you see, and the slow acting poison I had her slip into your meal was both odorless as well as tasteless," the secretary informed the dying ghoul before a wicked grin spread along her ruby lips, "You shall be dead within minutes." Valeska simply stared up at Katrina in bewilderment, the woman proving to be anything but what she might have expected from a Toreador. It was utterly terrifying to be faced with such an opponent, and because the dhampir was clueless about most poisons she had no idea which one had been used on her. More importantly, she had no idea if there was even a cure to what she currently suffered from, and if it hadn't been for her body being numb she was sure her stomach would have been twisting in anxiety right about now.

Now sweating profusely with what seemed to chill her to the bone, the ghoul's sense of hearing had pretty much been limited to the elevator the pair stood in. The bass of music had completely vanished due to this, so she was quite surprised when she heard a soft noise above them. Figuring out what had caused it was impossible, but it almost sounded like a shirt or something equally light had been tossed onto the ceiling. Her first thought was that someone had arrived to save her, and she was most fortunate that Katrina was too distracted with her joy at seeing the dhampir suffer to notice. It was also possible that because the music below was so loud that the secretary missed the soft pitter patter on the roof, though she could not be sure either way. Meeting the Toreador's eyes, she gathered up as much strength as possible in order to keep her distracted a little while longer.

"No wonder LaCroix latched onto me so quickly when I came under his employ," she stated in a hoarse voice. She may have been wheezing in between her words, but not once did she ever lose the level of confidence she maintained, "You use dirty tactics to gain the upper hand just like the lying hypocrite you are!" Valeska launched into a coughing fit after this, something that made her unable to continue her goading into tricking the Toreador to cure her. Calling someone's honor into question would have been a great way to do that, but when her coughing finally stopped she found that nearly everything else had too. She might as well have been a hundred percent paralyzed, for her breathing was so light that it might not have even been taking place, and the only thing she could really move were her green eyes.

"Ahh the famous last words that shall be immediately forgotten," the secretary mused in a playful tone, "I suppose we shall see one another soon enough though, whether in hell or whatever life stretches beyond this one. Farewell, Valeska, and ma-" Without any kind of warning, one of the ceiling tiles suddenly gave way in the left corner to reveal the female assassin, Nyssa. She looked vastly different tonight with her cropped hair though, and even more so with the tight body suit she wore, the dark material on it completely unknown to the dhampir. Now whether it was because her hearing had left her completely or the Assamite was using her silencing discipline again, no form of sound managed to reach Valeska's ears at all. However, that did not prevent her from witnessing the battle that played out before her

Before Nyssa's feet had even reached the ground, Katrina reacted by turning quickly on her heel to face whatever adversary stood before her. Due to her speed, she did manage to block off one of the Assamite's quick jabs, but the ones following it hit the secretary in a few key locations. This resulted in the Toreador flying into the wall behind her, her face scrunching up in pain presumably from how hard her head had made contact with the metal. Yet she had little time to recover for since she was at a farther distance, Nyssa took to using a long ranged weapon. This was not however any sort of throwing knife, but rather one that had the assassin pursing her lips and spitting like a snake at her opponent whom barely had time to duck. When the Assamite's saliva made contact with the wall rather than its target, it literally began to eat straight through the metal, a stream of thin smoke billowing upwards as it did.

Now having her composure returned to her, the secretary reached under her skirt to reveal a serrated knife strapped to her upper leg. Quickly removing it she lunged forward at the assassin in front of her, only to be met with the same blade Valeska had had to her throat the previous evening. This time around though, Nyssa's weapon was coated in a strange substance that reflected in the light and had a greenish tint to it. Poison. As the two women viciously slashed at one another, their weapons matching one another hit for hit in the small area, Valeska began to notice something strange about her body. It wasn't dying. If anything she actually felt her strength was returning to her little by little like she had somehow been magically cured of the poison in her veins. Even her senses (except her hearing) had slowly begun to come back, making her wonder if this was just the final stage of toxic effects on her body. To give her hope and then crush it all in one fell swoop seemed almost too cruel though, so perhaps it was some other unknown variable.

Turning her attention back to the battling duo, she saw that the two had done a fair bit of damage in the few seconds Valeska had been distracted by her bodily observations. She assumed this was because of how small the elevator was, something which literally gave little room for error. Fortunately, yet unsurprisingly, Nyssa still appeared to be the better fighter of the two as she only had a few gashes here and there. Most, if not all of them, were restricted to her face, but this made sense as it was the only unprotected part of her body that her flexible and durable clothing did not cover.

Katrina on the other hand looked much worse for wear. The several parts of her exposed body donned similar injuries as Nyssa, but with seemingly painful wounds that sizzled and popped from the venomous substance her enemy's blade was coated in. Because of this then, the Toreador eventually began to fall behind in keeping up in their battle, her strikes becoming slower and slower because of this. This ultimately allowed the assassin to gain the upper hand by reaching out at lightning speed and twisting the Toreador's wrist so that she was forced to drop her weapon. With Katrina now completely disarmed, Nyssa swung out her left leg and hooked it around her opponent's right one. This caused the secretary to lose her balance for a moment, something that gave the Assamite clear access for her to drive her blade deep into the area of the Toreador's heart.

For a moment Katrina did nothing. She simply stood there, mouth agape as she stared down at the knife buried in her flesh. This should have been the end of their conflict, but apparently Nyssa wanted to be sure things would end appropriately. With a tight kick, the flexible Assamite brought her flying foot all the way up to the blade so that the force might drive the weapon even deeper into the wound. Once again no sound reached Valeska's ears, but when the Toreador fell backwards, it was apparent from her facial features that she had cried out in pain. The female assassin then removed her blade and wiped it clean with a spare bit of dark cloth hanging from her belt.

When Nyssa opened her mouth to speak, the sound had decided to finally return, but this was something Valeska was not prepared for. Literally every noise around them came hurtling back to the previously deafened ghoul, something that was so painfully overwhelming to her that she was sure her eardrums were a step away from popping. Fortunately for the ghoul though, the paralyzation effects of her body had worn off to the point where she could clumsily move most of her upper body. This meant she should have been able to shield her sensitive ears, but the task of moving her arms was much closer to flailing two wet noodles about more than anything. By the time she actually did manage to cover the sides of her head then, the noise level around her had become bearable enough that she let her arms flop back down uselessly to the sides of her body.

"Well that was disappointing," Nyssa sighed, continuing to clean her blade so that it practically sparkled in the low light as she returned it to its holster. "Guess I can't expect much from a Toreador though…" Kneeling next to Katrina, she shoved the secretary so that she fell completely onto her back, since she had managed to sit up.

"Aaugh!" the Toreador cried out, her head sounding like someone had dropped a squishy cantaloupe when it hit the floor.

"Hurts like a bitch to have a taste of your own medicine don't it?" the Assamite mocked, tilting her head as a wicked smile crept upon her face. "To be fair this is a much more debilitating form of poison that works a lot faster that what you gave dear old Valeska over there, but it gets the job done, and much more painfully I might add." The Toreador said nothing as she fumbled at her chest with a twitching hand, her head turning slightly to observe the ghoul's slouched form. Her eyes practically bulged out of her skull though when she saw the dhampir leaning forward, the paralyzation slowly but surely wearing off.

"Val?" Katrina gasped in shock, the ghoul nearly falling flat on her face as she willed her limbs to move her towards the secretary's failing body. "You're…you're still alive?!"

"I…I don't know…" Valeska murmured, her words slurring together a statement that made no sense in regards to what had been asked. Honestly she was just as surprised as Katrina appeared to be, but because her brain was still trying to make sense of everything else currently happening she wasn't in a position to be forming theories. Glancing down at the secretary with vision that was no longer blurred, she examined each of her wounds that looked like they were still eating painfully into her flesh. The poison used then had probably been combined with some form of acid, much like Nyssa's acidic spit. At least it accounted for one thing though, and that was the smell of burnt flesh that tickled Valeska's nose. Looking back into the secretary's face she saw something odd though, and that was that the hatred had disappeared completely from her eyes. In fact, if there was anything present in them, it was guilt and even relief, but the reasoning behind such was puzzling. Hadn't she been so determined to kill Valeska before?

"V-Val…Vales…" the Toreador stammered weakly, unable to finish saying the dhampir's full name as she reached out with a single bloody hand. For some reason that was completely unknown as well as highly irrational to Valeska, she felt sympathy for the dying woman who had developed tears in the corner of her eyes. She then did something even more irrational by displaying an act of compassion and grasping Katrina's hand.

"I'm here," was all the ghoul could manage to say. Not only because her energy levels were still dangerously low, but because she wasn't sure of what else to add. At that very moment there was so much conflict present in her mind, and so she honestly wasn't sure whether to outright forgive the Toreador for what she had done or figuratively kick her while she was down. Instead she neglected to choose either option, deciding that she would at least wait to figure out what her last words would be.

"D-don't leave me…please…" she begged, looking up into Valeska's eyes. "I am…I don't want to die alone…" Well that answered that question, but any feelings of anger refused to show themselves through the dhampir even so.

"I won't leave you," Valeska promised, her voice now sounding much clearer. Giving the secretary's ice cold hand a reassuring squeeze, she noticed for the first time what color eyes the Kindred lying in front of her had: purple. They were absolutely beautiful, like little galaxies floating on the outskirts of her orbs. Seeing the light slowly fading from them was almost heartbreaking, and it left no room for Valeska to feel anything but sorrow even as the Assamite besides the pair rolled her eyes.

"Wh-when we die…what do y…do yo-" She stopped, the apparent agony from the poison preventing her from finishing her words that came out short and choppy.

"What do I think happens when we die?" The Toreador nodded slowly to confirm this, the act of doing so causing her to shut her eyes tightly and wince in pain. Valeska frowned, not exactly sure how to answer such a philosophically loaded question when her beliefs followed anything but a mainstream religion. She was also torn between comforting the Toreador or terrifying her, but instead she decided to go with the honest route. "I uhm…well I'm not sure. I think that when we die we go where ever we think we're supposed to go. Whatever we believed in the most when we were alive is what dictates our afterlife…I guess…"

"…so I will see m-my sire again…?" Katrina asked softly in slower tone of voice, her eyes having reopened to gaze into Valeska's unblinking ones. Another odd question to her, but then she remembered something the secretary had told her when they had first met about her sire who had apparently died several years ago. Such a comment seemed like it had been made years ago to Valeska too, but the sorrow that had been present in the Toreador's voice had not. Whoever he was, he must have been important to her, maybe even someone who was like LaCroix. Yet what seemed even stranger to the dhampir was how fearful the Toreador currently was. Just a few moments ago she had been going on about how she had come to terms with dying, while now she looked absolutely terrified. Had she merely been lying before, or had she expected death to claim her while she was unaware? Contradicting or not though, it was at least understandable.

"If that is what you believe…then yes." For a short moment there was silence in the elevator as Katrina stared up at the ceiling. She had a small sort of smile on her face like she was imagining this, but then without warning, it vanished completely. Instead of contentment, the fear had returned along with the same expression of guilt from earlier. Looking at the ghoul with wide eyes, she ended the silence between them.

"I ne-need you to know…I…am sorry for w-what I did to you…please…forgi-" Once again she had to cut her words short, the pain making it too difficult for her to even wheeze out her now fully slurred words.

"By Haqim…" Nyssa muttered under her breath, standing up and crossing her arms in clear disapproval or perhaps impatience. Reaching over she pushed the emergency stop button so that the elevator might actually start moving again. The sound of rattling took over for the bass below, a noise that was now slowly fading as they traveled up. Ignoring the Assamite and staring down at the desperate Toreador, the ghoul struggled with what to say to her. More than likely Katrina believed in some kind of heaven and hell based off some of her earlier comments, so penance was bound to be highly important to her. Being forgiven meant salvation for her, while the flip side meant damnation. Quite literally then, her fate was in Valeska's hands as she could either let her spirit rest in peace or seek revenge by having her believe that her soul would be tormented for the rest of eternity.

"I…" she began, knowing that Katrina had little time left, "I…forgive you…" The dying woman looked as surprised as Valeska felt with her decision, but this was soon exchanged for a tiny smile that made the corners of her eyes crinkle, a single tear rolling down the side of her face as she did.

"…take c-care of h-him…" Valeska frowned, but then immediately nodded in understanding as she quickly realized that Katrina's Thornton's last words were about their mutual boss, Sebastian LaCroix. With that the spark of personality that made up the Toreador faded, her darkened eyes rolling back into her skull as the ghoul instinctively released her limp hand. It was an odd sensation, the feeling of watching someone die, and whether they were human or vampire it mattered not. To her it always felt like a wave of energy had left the area, as one second they were there and the next they were just…gone. Forever.

Closing the corpse's eyelids, Valeska wasn't sure what to feel. Sorrow? Hatred? Spiteful joy? The blood bond between them, as that was what she assumed was causing her such agonizing conflict, prevented her from latching onto to just one feeling. Part of her wanted to stand up in order to kick her corpse repeatedly, and the other wanted to burst into tears for the woman she could have seen being a good friend had it not been for LaCroix. The opportunity to curse the woman forever had been right in front of her waiting to be exploited, but she gave it up for a reason that was still unclear to her. In her past she had committed more than a dozen atrocities, some being so dark that it was almost disturbing how she felt no pity over them. Yet all of it, every single job she had accepted, had been done in the name of a dying grandmother. Perhaps then, her heart was not quite as cold as she believed it to be…

* * *

**Author's Note:** Something about this chapter makes me feel weird, but I'm not sure whether or not that's a good thing yet. I was really struggling with making the whole revenge plot with Katrina, or making her a really sympathetic character who would willingly sacrifice herself for her beloved Prince. As a Toreador, the latter seemed unrealistic for her character (as StarGazers mentioned), so instead I tried to make her sympathetic through other means. For Val this is probably a more thought provoking scenario too, because what's to stop her from becoming like Katrina in a few years more time? I also wanted to avoid the whole catfight cliché, but not sure if I did or not lol. One last thing to note is that the reason for Val being immune to the poison will be revealed in the next chapter, but for anyone who has done their research or is able to make good guesses, the answer will be easy for them. Anyway, hopefully everyone enjoyed it, but I'd like to hear your thoughts on this chapter either way! I'm not used to writing a sad scene, but the conflict present might have ruined it. I'm not sure, so let me know! Thank you! =)


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